T 


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1. 


“  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firmness  in  the  right 
as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  strive  on  to  finish  the  work  we  are  in.” 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT 


OR,  SUCCESS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES 


A  BOOK  OF  INSPIRATION  AND  ENCOURAGEMENT  TO 
ALL  WHO  ARE  STRUGGLING  FOR  SELF-ELEVATION 
ALONG  THE  PATHS  OF  KNOWLEDGE 
AND  OF  DUTY 


BY 

ORISON  SWETT  MARDEN 

AUTHOR  OF  “  RISING  IN  THE  WORLD  OR,  ARCHITECTS  OF  FATE.” 
EDITOR  OF  “SUCCESS,”  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TWENTY-FOUR  FINE 
PORTRAITS  OF  EMINENT  PERSONS 


We  live  in  a  new  and  exceptional  age.  America 
is  another  name  for  Opportunity.  Our  whole 
history  appears  like  a  last  effort  of  the  Divine 
Providence  in  behalf  of  the  human  race. 

Emerson 


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\ 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS,  '  '  0 


New  York. 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  CO., 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1894, 
By  ORISON  SWETT  MAT 


Ail  rights  reserved. 


PREFACE. 


The  author’s  excuse  for  one  more  postponement  of  the 
end  “  of  making  many  books  ”  can  be  briefly  given.  He 
early  determined  that  if  it  should  ever  lie  in  his  power, 
he  would  write  a  book  to  encourage,  inspire,  and  stimu* 
late  boys  and  girls  who  long  to  be  somebody  and  do 
something  in  the  world,  but  feel  that  they  have  no 
chance  in  life.  Among  hundreds  of  American  and  Eng¬ 
lish  books  for  the  young,  claiming  to  give  the  “  secret  of 
success,”  he  found  but  few  which  satisfy  the  cravings  of 
youth,  hungry  for  stories  of  successful  lives,  and  eager 
for  every  hint  and  every  bit  of  information  which  may 
help  them  to  make  their  way  in  the  world.  He  believed 
that  the  power  of  an  ideal  book  for  youth  should  lie  in  its 
richness  of  concrete  examples,  as  the  basis  and  inspira¬ 
tion  of  character-building;  in  its  uplifting,  energizing? 
suggestive  force,  more  than  in  its  arguments  ;  that  it 
should  be  free  from  materialism,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
from  cant  on  the  other ;  and  that  it  should  abound  in  stir¬ 
ring  examples  of  men  and  women  who  have  brought 
things  to  pass.  To  the  preparation  of  such  a  book  he 
had  devoted  all  his  spare  moments  for  ten  years,  when 
a  fire  destroyed  all  his  manuscript  and  notes.  The 
1  memory  of  some  of  the  lost  illustrations  of  difficulties 
overcome  stimulated  to  another  attempt ;  so  once  more 
the  gleanings  of  odd  bits  of  time  for  years  have  been 
arranged  in  the  following  pages. 

The  author’s  aim  has  been  to  spur  the  perplexed  youth 
to  act  the  Columbus  to  his  own  undiscovered  possibili¬ 
ties  ;  to  urge  him  not  to  brood  over  the  past,  nor  dream 
of  the  future,  but  to  get  his  lesson  from  the  hour ;  to 
encourage  him  to  make  every  occasion  a  great  occasion, 
for  he  cannot  tell  when  fate  may  take  his  measure  for  a 
higher  place  j  to  show  him  that  he  must  not  wait  for  his 


PREFACE. 


IV 

opportunity,  but  make  it ;  to  tell  the  round  boy  how  he 
may  get  out  of  the  square  hole,  into  wiPC-h  he  has  been 
wedged  by  circumstances  or  mistakes  ;  to  help  him  to 
find  his  right  place  in  life  ;  to  teach  the  hesitating  youth 
that  in  a  land  where  shoemakers  and  farmers  sit  in  Con¬ 
gress  no  limit  can  be  placed  to  the  career  of  a  deter-  ' 
mined  youth  who  has  once  learned  the  alphabet.  The 
standard  of  the  book  is  not  measured  in  gold,  but  in 
growth ;  not  in  position,  but  in  personal  power ;  not  in 
capital,  but  in  character.  It  shows  that  a  great  check¬ 
book  can  never  make  a  great  man  ;  that  beside  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  a  Washington,  the  millions  of  a  Croesus  look  con¬ 
temptible  ;  that  a  man  may  be  rich  without  money,  and 
may  succeed  though  he  does  not  become  President  or 
member  of  Congress  ;  that  he  who  would  grasp  the  key 
to  power  must  be  greater  than  his  calling,  and  resist 
the  vulgar  prosperity  that  retrogrades  toward  barbarism  ; 
that  there  is  something  greater  than  wealth,  grander 
than  fame  ;  that  character  is  success,  and  there  is  no  other. 

If  this  volume  shall  open  wider  the  door  of  some  nar¬ 
row  life,  and  awaken  powers  before  unknown,  the  author 
will  feel  repaid  for  his  labor.  No  special  originality  is 
claimed  for  the  book.  It  has  been  prepared  in  odd 
moments  snatched  from  a  busy  life,  and  is  merely  a 
new  way  of  telling  stories  and  teaching  lessons  that 
have  been  told  and  taught  by  many  others  from  Solomon  1 
down.  In  these  well-worn  and  trite  topics  lie  “  the 
marrow  of  the  wisdom  of  the  world.” 

**  Though  old  the  thought,  and  oft  expressed, 

*T  is  his  at  last  who  says  it  best.’* 

If  in  rewriting  this  book  from  lost  manuscript,  the 
author  has  failed  to  always  give  due  credit,  he  desires  to 
hereby  express  the  fullest  obligation.  He  also  wishes 
to  acknowledge  valuable  assistance  from  Mr.  Arthur  W. 
Brown,  of  West  Kingston,  R.  I. 

43  Bowdoin  Street,  Boston,  November  11,  1894. 


I 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

L  The  Man  and  the  Opportunity  ...... 

Don’t  wait  for  your  opportunity  :  make  it. 

II.  Boys  with  no  Chance . 

Necessity  is  the  priceless  spur. 

III  An  Iron  Will  . . 

Give  a  youth  resolution  and  the  alphabet,  and  who  shall  place 
limits  to  his  career  ? 

IV.  Possibilities  in  Spare  Moments  .  •  °  .  .  •  . 

If  a  genius  like  Gladstone  carries  through  life  a  book  in  his 
pocket,  lest  an  unexpected  spare  moment  slip  from  his  grasp, 
what  should  we  of  common  abilities  not  resort  to,  to  save  the  pre¬ 
cious  moments  from  oblivion  ? 

V.  Round  Boys  in  Square  Holes . 

Man  is  doomed  to  perpetual  inferiority  and  disappointment  if 
out  of  his  place,  and  gets  his  living  by  his  weakness  instead  of  by 
his  strength. 

VI.  What  Career  ? .  . .  . 

Your  talent  is  your  call.  “What  can  you  do?”  is  the  interro¬ 
gation  of  the  century.  Better  adorn  your  own  than  seek  another’s 
place. 

VII.  Concentrated  Energy  ........... 

One  unwavering  aim.  Don’t  dally  with  your  purpose.  Not 
many  things  indifferently,  but  one  thing  supremely. 

VIII.  “  On  Time,”  or  the  Triumph  of  Promptness  .  . 

Don’t  brood  over  the  past  or  dream  of  the  future  ;  but  seize 
the  instant,  and  get  your  lesson  from  the  hour. 

IX.  Cheerfulness  and  Longevity . 

You  must  take  joy  with  you,  or  you  will  not  find  it  even  in 
heaven. 

X. 


XI. 

XII. 


A  Fortune  in  Good  Manners . 

The  good-mannered  can  do  without  riches :  all  doors  fly  open 
to  them,  and  they  enter  everywhere  without  money  and  without 
price. 

The  Triumphs  of  Enthusiasm . 

“  What  are  hardships,  ridicule,  persecution,  toil,  sickness,  to  a 
soul  throbbing  with  an  overmastering  enthusiasm  ?  ” 

Tact  or  Common  Sense . 

Talent  is  no  match  for  tact ;  we  see  its  failure  everywhere.  In 
the  race  of  life,  common  sense  has  the  right  of  way. 


PAGE 

5 

25 

55 

63 

74 

89 

106 

121 

133 

146 

170 

187 


VI 


CONTENTS , 


XIII.  Self-Respect  and  Self-Confidence  e  .  «  .  .  202 

We  stamp  our  own  value  upon  ourselves,  and  cannot  expect 
to  pass  for  more. 

XIV.  Greater  than  Wealth . 210 

A  man  may  make  millions  and  be  a  failure  still.  He  is  the 
richest  man  who  enriches  mankind  most 

XV.  The  Price  of  Success . 232 

“  Work  or  starve  ”  is  Nature’s  motto,  —  it  is  written  on  the 
stars  and  the  sod  alike,  —  starve  mentally,  starve  morally, 
starve  physically. 

XVL  Character  is  Power . 250 

Beside  the  character  of  a  Washington  the  millions  of  many 
an  American  look  contemptible.  Character  is  success,  and  there 
is  no  other. 

XVII.  Enamored  of  Accuracy . 273 

Twenty  things  half  done  do  not  make  one  tiling  well  done. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  going  just  right  and  a  little 
wrong. 

XVIII.  Life  is  what  we  make  it  . . 292 

We  get  out  of  life  just  what  we  put  into  it.  The  world  has 
for  us  just  what  we  have  for  it. 

XIX.  The  Victory  in  Defeat . 304 

To  know  how  to  wring  victory  from  our  defeats,  and  make 
stepping-stones  of  our  stumbling-blocks,  is  the  secret  of  success. 

XX.  Nerve  —  Grit,  Grip,  Pluck . 318 


There  is  something  grand  and  inspiring  in  a  young  man  who 
fails  squarely  after  doing  his  level  best,  and  then  enters  the  con¬ 
test  a  second  and  a  third  time  with  undaunted  courage  and  re¬ 
doubled  energy. 

XXI.  The  Reward  of  Persistence . 337 

“  Mere  genius  darts,  flutters,  and  tires ;  but  perseverance 
wears  and  wins.” 

XXII.  A  Long  Life,  and  how  to  reach  it . 356 

The  first  requisite  to  success  is  to  be  a  first-class  animal. 

Even  the  greatest  industry  cannot  amount  to  much,  if  a  feeble 


body  does  not  respond  to  the  ambition. 

XXIII.  Be  Brief . 372 

“  Brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit.”  Boil  it  down. 

XXIV.  Aspiration . 375 

“  A  man  cannot  aspire  if  he  looks  down.”  Look  upward,  live 
upward. 

XXV.  The  Army  of  the  Reserve . 389 

We  never  can  tell  what  is  in  a  man  until  an  emergency  calls 
Out  his  reserve,  and  he  cannot  call  out  an  ounce  more  than  has 
been  stored  up. 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY. 

No  man  is  born  into  this  world  whose  work  is  not  bom  with  him.  - 
Lowell. 

No  ro}ral  permission  is  requisite  to  launch  forth  on  the  broad  sea  of  dis¬ 
covery  that  surrounds  us — most  full  of  novelty  where  most  explored. — 
Edward  Everett. 

Things  don’t  turn  up  in  this  world  until  somebody  turns  them  up.  — 
Garfield. 

We  live  in  a  new  and  exceptional  age.  America  is  another  name  for 
Opportunity.  Our  whole  history  appears  like  a  last  effort  of  the  Divine 
Providence  in  behalf  of  the  human  race.  —  Emerson. 

Vigilance  in  watching  opportunity  ;  tact  and  daring  in  seizing  upon  op¬ 
portunity;  force  and  persistence  in  crowding  opportunity  to  its  utmost  of 
possible  achievement  —  these  are  the  martial  virtues  which  must  command 
success. — Austin  Phelps. 

“  I  will  find  a  way  or  make  one.” 

There  never  was  a  day  that  did  not  bring  its  own  opportunity  for  doing 
good,  that  never  could  have  been  done  before,  and  never  can  be  again.  — 
W.  H.  Burleigh. 

“Are  you  in  earnest?  Seize  this  very  minute  ; 

What  you  can  do,  or  dream  you  can,  beyin  it.” 

"If  we  succeed,  wliat  will  the  world  say?”  asked 
Captain  Berry  in  delight,  when  Nelson  had  explained 
his  carefully  formed  plan  before  the  battle  of  the  Nile. 

“  There  is  no  if  in  the  case,”  replied  Nelson.  “That 
we  shall  succeed  is  certain.  Who  may  live  to  tell  the 
tale  is  a  very  different  question.”  Then,  as  his  cap¬ 
tains  rose  from  the  council  to  go  to  their  respective 
ships,  he  added :  “  Before  this  time  to-morrow  I  shall 
have  gained  a  peerage  or  Westminster  Abbey.”  His 
quick  eye  and  daring  spirit  saw  an  opportunity  of  gh> 
rious  victory  where  others  saw  only  probable  defeat. 


6 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  Is  it  possible  to  cross  the  path  ?  ”  asked  Napoleon 
of  the  engineers  who  had  been  sent  to  explore  the 
dreaded  pass  of  St.  Bernard.  “  Perhaps/’  was  the  hesi¬ 
tating  rejily,  “it  is  within  the  limits  of  possibility 
“  P orwaeDj  then/’  said  the  Little  Corporal,  heeding 
not  their  account  of  difficulties,  apparently  insurmount¬ 
able.  England  and  Austria  laughed  in  scorn  at  the 
idea  of  transporting  across  the  Alps,  where  “  no  wheel 
had  ever  rolled,  or  by  any  possibility  could  roll,”  an 
army  of  sixty  thousand  men,  with  ponderous  artillery, 
and  tons  of  cannon  balls  and  baggage,  and  all  the  bulky 
munitions  of  war.  But  the  besieged  Massena  was  starv¬ 
ing  in  Genoa,  and  the  victorious  Austrians  thundered  at 
the  gates  of  Nice.  Napoleon  was  not  the  man  to  fail 
his  former  comrades  in  their  hour  of  peril. 

The  soldiers  and  all  their  equipments  were  inspected 
with  rigid  care.  A  worn  shoe,  a  torn  coat,  or  a  dam¬ 
aged  musket  was  at  once  repaired  or  replaced,  and  the 
columns  swept  forward,  fired  with  the  spirit  of  their 
chief. 

“High  on  those  craggy  steeps,  gleaming  through  the 
mists,  the  glittering  bands  of  armed  men,  like  phan¬ 
toms,  appeared.  The  eagle  wheeled  and  screamed  be¬ 
neath  their  feet.  The  mountain  goat,  affrighted  by  the 
unwonted  spectacle,  bounded  away,  and  paused  in  bold 
relief  upon  the  cliff  to  gaze  at  the  martial  array  which 
so  suddenly  had  peopled  the  solitude.  When  they  ap¬ 
proached  any  spot  of  very  special  difficulty,  the  trum¬ 
pets  sounded  the  charge,  which  reechoed  with  sublime 
reverberations  from  pinnacle  to  pinnacle  of  rock  and 
ice.  Everything  was  so  carefully  arranged,  and  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  Napoleon  so  boundless,  that  not  a  soldier  left 
the  ranks.  Whatever  obstructions  were  in  the  way  were 
to  be  at  all  hazards  surmounted,  so  that  the  long  file, 
extending  nearly  twenty  miles,  might  not  be  thrown 
into  confusion.”  In  four  days  the  army  was  marching 
an  the  plains  of  Italy. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  7 


When  this  “  impossible  ”  deed  was  accomplished, 
others  saw  that  it  might  have  been  done  long  before. 
Many  a  commander  had  possessed  the  necessary  sup« 
plies,  tools,  and  rugged  soldiers,  but  lacked  the  grit 
and  resolution  of  Bonaparte.  Others  excused  themselves 
from  encountering  such  gigantic  obstacles  by  calling 
them  insuperable.  He  did  not  shrink  from  mere  diflk 
culties,  however  great,  but  out  of  his  very  need  made 
and  mastered  his  opportunity. 

Grant  at  New  Orleans  had  just  been  seriously  in¬ 
jured  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  when  he  received  orders 
to  take  command  at  Chattanooga,  so  sorely  beset  by  the 
Confederates  that  its  surrender  seemed  only  a  question 
of  a  few  days ;  for  the  hills  around  were  all  aglow  by 
night  with  the  camp-fires  of  the  enemy,  and  supplies 
had  been  cut  olf .  Though  in  great  pain,  General  Grant 
gave  directions  for  his  removal  to  the  new  scene  of  ac¬ 
tion  immediately. 

On  transjjorts  up  the  Mississippi,  the  Ohio,  and  one 
of  its  tributaries  ;  on  a  litter  borne  by  horses  for  many 
miles  through  the  wilderness ;  and  into  the  city  at  last 
on  the  shoulders  of  four  men,  he  was  taken  to  Chatta¬ 
nooga.  Things  assumed  a  different  aspect  immediately. 
A  Master  had  arrived  who  was  equal  to  the  situation . 
The  army  felt  the  grip  of  his  power.  Before  he  could 
mount  his  horse,  he  ordered  an  advance.  Soon  the  sur¬ 
rounding  hills  were  held  by  Union  soldiers,  although 
the  enemy  contested  the  ground  inch  by  inch. 

Were  these  things  the  result  of  chance,  or  were  they 
compelled  by  the  indomitable  determination  of  the  in¬ 
jured  General  ? 

Did  things  adjust  themselves  when  Horatius  with  two 
companions  held  ninety  thousand  Tuscans  at  bay  until 
the  bridge  across  the  Tiber  had  been  destroyed  ?  —  when 
Leonidas  at  Thermopylae  checked  the  mighty  march  of 
Xerxes  ?  —  when  Themistocles,  off  the  coast  of  Greece, 
Shattered  the  Persian’s  Armada  ?  —  when  Caesar,  find 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT 


mg  his  army  hard  pressed,  seized  spear  and  buckler, 
fought  while  he  reorganized  his  men,  and  snatched  vic¬ 
tory  from  defeat  ?  — when  Winkelried  gathered  to  his 
breast  a  sheaf  of  Austrian  spears,  thus  opening  a  path 
through  which  his  comrades  pressed  to  freedom  ?  — 
when  Benedict  Arnold,  by  desperate  daring  at  Sara¬ 
toga,  won  the  battle  which  seemed  doubtful  to  Horatio 
Gates,  loitering  near  his  distant  tent  ?  —  when  for  years, 
Napoleon  did  not  lose  a  single  battle  in  which  he  was 
personally  engaged  ?  —  when  Wellington  fought  in 
many  climes  without  ever  being  conquered  ?  —  when 
Ney,  on  a  hundred  fields,  changed  apparent  disaster  into 
brilliant  triumph  ?  —  when  Perry  left  the  disabled  Law¬ 
rence,  rowed  to  the  Niagara,  and  silenced  the  British 
guns?  —  when  Sheridan  arrived  from  Winchester  just 
as  the  Union  retreat  was  becoming  a  rout,  and  turned 
the  tide  by  riding  along  the  line  ?  —  when  Sherman  sig¬ 
naled  his  men  to  hold  the  fort,  though  sorely  pressed ; 
and  they  held  it,  knowing  that  their  leader  was  coming  ? 

History  furnishes  thousands  of  examples  of  men  who 
have  seized  occasions  to  accomplish  results  deemed  im¬ 
possible  by  those  less  resolute.  Prompt  decision  and 
whole-souled  action  sweep  the  world  before  them. 

True,  there  has  been  but  one  Napoleon ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  Alps  that  oppose  the  progress  of  the 
average  American  youth  are  not  as  high  or  dangerous 
as  the  summits  crossed  by  the  Corsican. 

Don’t  wait  for  extraordinary  opportunities.  Seize 
common  occasions  and  make  them  great. 

On  the  morning  of  September  6, 1838,  a  young  woman 
in  the  Longstone  Lighthouse,  between  England  and  Scot¬ 
land,  was  awakened  by  shrieks  of  agony  rising  above 
the  roar  of  wind  and  wave.  A  storm  of  unwonted  fury 
was  raging,  and  her  parents  could  not  hear  the  cries ; 
but  a  telescope  showed  nine  human  beings  clinging  to 
the  windlass  of  a  wrecked  vessel  whose  bow  was  hang¬ 
ing  on  the  rocks  half  a  mile  away.  “  We  can  do  no 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  9 


thing,”  said  William  Darling,  the  liglit-keeper.  “Ah, 
yes,  we  must  go  to  the  rescue,”  exclaimed  his  daughter, 
pleading  tearfully  with  both  father  and  mother  until 
the  former  replied:  “Very  well,  Grace,  I  will  let  you 
persuade  me,  though  it  is  against  my  better  judgment.” 
Like  a  feather  in  a  whirlwind  the  little  boat  was  tossed 
on  the  tumultuous  sea,  and  it  seemed  to  Grace  that  she 
could  feel  her  brain  reel  amid  the  maddening  swirh 
But  borne  on  the  blast  that  swept  the  cruel  surge,  the 
shrieks  of  those  shipwrecked  sailors  seemed  to  change 
her  weak  sinews  into  cords  of  steel.  Strength  hitherto 
unsuspected  came  from  somewhere,  and  the  heroic  girl 
pulled  one  oar  in  even  time  with  her  father.  At  length 
the  nine  were  safely  on  board.  “  God  bless  you ;  but 
ye  ’re  a  bonny  English  lass,”  said  one  poor  fellow,  as  he 
looked  wonderingly  upon  this  marvelous  girl,  who  that 
day  had  done  a  deed  which  added  more  to  England’s 
glory  than  the  exploits  of  many  of  her  monarehs. 

A  cat-boat  was  capsized  in  1854  near  Lime  Kock 
Lighthouse,  Newport,  R.  I.,  and  four  young  men  were 
left  struggling  in  the  cold  waves  of  a  choppy  sea. 
Keeper  Lewis  was  not  at  home,  and  his  sick  wife  could 
do  nothing ;  but  their  daughter  Ida,  twelve  years  old, 
rowed  out  in  a  small  boat  and  saved  the  men.  During 
the  next  thirty  years  she  rescued  nine  others,  at  various 
times.  Her  work  was  done  without  assistance,  and 
showed  skill  and  endurance  fully  equal  to  her  great 
courage. 

“  If  you  will  let  me  try,  I  think  I  can  make  some¬ 
thing  that  will  do,”  said,a  boy  who  had  been  employed 
as  a  scullion  at  the  mansion  of  Signor  Ealiero,  as  the 
story  is  told  by  George  Cary  Eggleston.  A  large  com¬ 
pany  had  been  invited  to  the  banquet,  and  just  before 
the  hour  the  confectioner,  who  had  been  making  a  large 
ornament  for  the  table,  sent  word  that  he  had  spoiled 
the  piece.  “You!”  exclaimed  the  head  servant,  in 
astonishment j  “ and  who  are  you ? ”  “I  am  Antonie 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Canova,  the  grandson  of  Pisano  the  stone-cutter/7  re 
plied  the  pale-faced  little  fellow. 

“  And,  pray,  what  can  you  do  ?  ”  asked  the  major- 
domo.  “  I  can  make  you  something  that  will  do  for  the 
middle  of  the  table,  if  you  ’ll  let  me  try.”  The  servant 
was  at  his  wit’s  end,  so  he  told  Antonio  to  go  ahead  and 
see  what  he  could  do.  Calling  for  some  butter,  the 
scullion  quickly  moulded  a  large  crouching  lion,  which 
the  admiring  major-domo  placed  upon  the  table. 

Dinner  was  announced,  and  many  of  the  most  noted 
merchants,  princes,  and  noblemen  of  Venice  were  ushered 
into  the  dining-room.  Among  them  were  skilled  critics 
of  art  work.  When  their  eyes  fell  upon  the  butter  lion, 
they  forgot  the  purpose  for  which  they  had  come,  in 
their  wonder  at  such  a  work  of  genius.  They  looked 
at  the  lion  long  and  carefully,  and  asked  Signor  Faliero 
what  great  sculptor  had  been  persuaded  to  waste  his 
skill  upon  a  work  in  such  a  temporary  material.  Faliero 
could  not  tell;  so  he  asked  the  head  servant,  who 
brought  Antonio  before  the  company. 

When  the  distinguished  guests  learned  that  the  lion 
had  been  made  in  a  short  time  by  a  scullion,  the  dinner 
was  turned  into  a  feast  in  his  honor.  The  rich  host 
declared  that  he  would  pay  the  boy’s  expenses  under  the 
best  masters,  and  he  kept  his  word.  But  Antonio  was 
not  spoiled  by  his  good  fortune.  He  remained  at  heart 
the  same  simple,  earnest,  faithful  boy,  who  had  tried  so 
hard  to  become  a  good  stone-cutter  in  the  shop  of  Pisano. 
Some  may  not  have  heard  how  the  boy  Antonio  took 
advantage  of  this  first  great  opportunity ;  but  all  know 
of  Canova,  one  of  the  greatest  sculptors  of  all  time. 

Weak  men  wait  for  opportunities ,  strong  men  make  them . 

“  The  best  men,”  says  E.  IT.  Chapin,  “  are  not  those 
who  have  waited  for  chances  but  who  have  taken  them ; 
besieged  the  chance  ;  conquered  the  chance  ;  and  made 
chance  the  servitor.” 

w  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  were  rich !  ”  exclaimed  a  bright* 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  11 


industrious  drayman  in  Philadelphia,  who  had  many 
mouths  to  fill  at  home.  “Well,  why  don’t  you  get 
rich?”  asked  Stephen  Girard,  who  had  overheard  the 
remark.  “  I  don’t  know  how,  without  money,”  replied 
the  drayman.  “You  don’t  need  money,”  replied  Mr 
Girard.  “Well,  if  you  will  tell  me  how  to  get  rich 
without  money,  I  won’t  let  the  grass  grow  before  try¬ 
ing  it.” 

“  A  ship-load  of  confiscated  tea  is  to  be  sold  at  auction 
to-morrow  at  the  wharf,”  said  the  millionaire.  “Go 
down  and  buy  it,  and  then  come  to  me.”  “But  I  have 
no  money  to  buy  a  whole  ship-load  of  tea  with,”  pro¬ 
tested  the  drayman.  “  You  don’t  need  any  money,  I  tell 
you,”  said  Girard  sharply;  “go  down  and  bid  on  the 
whole  cargo,  and  then  come  to  me.” 

The  next  day  the  auctioneer  said  that  purchasers 
would  have  the  privilege  of  taking  one  case,  or  the 
whole  ship-load,  buying  by  the  pound.  A  retail  grocer 
started  the  bidding,  and  the  drayman  at  once  named  a 
higher  figure,  to  the  surprise  of  the  large  crowd  present. 
“  I  ’ll  take  the  whole  ship-load,”  said  he  coolly,  when 
a  sale  was  announced.  The  auctioneer  was  astonished, 
but  when  he  learned  that  the  young  bidder  was  Mr. 
Girard’s  drayman,  his  manner  changed,  and  he  said 
it  was  probably  all  right. 

The  news  spread  that  Girard  was  buying  tea  in  large 
quantities,  and  the  price  rose  several  cents  per  pound. 
“  Go  and  sell  your  tea,”  said  the  great  merchant  the 
next  day.  The  young  man  secured  quick  sales  by  quot¬ 
ing  a  price  a  trifle  below  the  market  rate,  and  in  a  few 
hours  he  was  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars.  The  author 
does  not  endorse  this  method  of  doing  business,  but  tells 
the  story  merely  as  an  example  of  seizing  an  opportunity. 

There  may  not  be  one  chance  in  a  million  that  you 
will  ever  receive  aid  of  this  kind;  but  opportunities 
are  often  presented  which  you  can  improve  to  good 
advantage,  if  you  will  only  act . 


12 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


(t  You  are  too  young,”  said  the  advertiser  for  a  factory 
manager  in  Manchester,  England,  after  a  single  glance 
at  an  applicant.  “  They  used  to  object  to  me  on  that 
score  four  or  five  years  ago,”  replied  Robert  Owen,  “  but 
I  did  not  expect  to  have  it  brought  up  now.”  “  How 
often  do  you  get  drunk  in  the  week  ?  ”  “I  never  wai 
drunk  in  my  life,”  said  Owen,  blushing.  “  What  salary 
do  you  ask  ?  ”  “  Three  hundred  (pounds)  a  year/’ 

u  Three  hundred  a  year  !  Why  I  have  had  I  don’t  know 
how  many  after  the  place  here  this  morning,  and  all 
their  askings  together  would  not  come  up  to  -what  yon 
want.” 

“  Whatever  others  may  ask,  I  cannot  take  less.  I 
am  making  three  hundred  a  year  by  my  own  business.” 

The  youth,  who  had  never  been  in  a  large  cotton  mill, 
was  put  in  charge  of  a  factory  employing  five  hundred 
operatives.  By  studying  machines,  cloth,  and  processes 
at  night,  he  mastered  every  detail  of  the  business  in  a 
short  time,  and  was  soon  without  a  superior  in  his  line 
in  Manchester. 

The  lack  of  opportunity  is  ever  the  excuse  of  a  weak, 
vacillating  mind.  Opportunities  !  Every  life  is  full  of 
them.  Every  lesson  in  school  or  college  is  an  opportu¬ 
nity.  Every  examination  is  a  chance  in  life.  Every 
patient  is  an  opportunity.  Every  newspaper  article  is 
an  opportunity.  Every  client  is  an  opportunity.  Every 
sermon  is  an  opportunity.  Every  business  transaction 
is  an  opportunity,  —  an  opportunity  to  be  polite,  —  an 
opportunity  to  be  manly,  —  an  opportunity  to  be  hon¬ 
est,  —  an  opportunity  to  make  friends.  Every  proof  of 
confidence  in  you  is  a  great  opportunity.  Every  respon¬ 
sibility  thrust  upon  your  strength  and  your  honor  is 
priceless.  Existence  is  the  privilege  of  effort,  and  when 
that  privilege  is  met  like  a  man,  opportunities  to  suc¬ 
ceed  along  the  line  of  your  aptitude  wfill  come  faster 
than  you  can  use  them.  If  a  slave  like  Fred  Douglass 
can  elevate  himself  into  an  orator,  editor,  statesman, 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  13 


what  ought  the  poorest  white  boy  to  do,  who  is  rich  in 
opportunities  compared  with  Douglass,  who  did  not 
even  own  his  body  ? 

It  is  the  idle  man,  not  the  great  worker,  who  is  always 
complaining  that  he  has  no  time  or  opportunity.  Some 
young  men  will  make  more  out  of  the  odds  and  ends  of 
opportunities,  which  many  carelessly  throw  away,  than 
others  will  get  out  of  a  whole  lifetime.  Like  bees,  they 
extract  honey  from  every  flower.  Every  person  they 
meet,  every  circumstance  of  the  day,  must  add  some¬ 
thing  to  their  store  of  useful  knowledge  or  personal 
power. 

“  There  is  nobody  whom  Fortune  does  not  visit  once 
in  his  life,”  says  a  Cardinal ;  “  but  when  she  finds  he  is 
not  ready  to  receive  her,  she  goes  in  at  the  door  and  out 
at  the  window.” 

“  What  is  its  name  ?  ”  asked  a  visitor  in  a  studio, 
when  shown,  among  many  gods,  one  whose  face  was 
concealed  by  hair,  and  which  had  wings  on  its  feet. 
“  Opportunity,”  replied  the  sculptor.  “  Why  is  its  face 
hidden  ?  ”  “  Because  men  seldom  know  him  when  he 

comes  to  them.”  “Why  has  he  wings  on  his  feet?” 
“Because  he  is  soon  gone,  and  once  gone,  cannot  be 
overtaken.” 

Life  pulsates  with  chances.  They  may  not  be  dra¬ 
matic  or  great,  but  they  are  important  to  him  who 
would  get  on  in  the  world. 

Cornelius  Vanderbilt  saw  his  opportunity  in  the 
steamboat,  and  determined  to  identify  himself  with 
steam  navigation.  To  the  surprise  of  all  his  friends, 
he  abandoned  his  prosperous  business  and  took  com¬ 
mand  of  one  of  the  first  steamboats  launched,  at  one 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  Livingston  and  Fulton  had 
acquired  the  sole  right  to  navigate  New  York  waters  by 
steam,  but  Vanderbilt  thought  the  law  unconstitutional, 
and  defied  it  until  it  was  repealed.  He  soon  became  a 
steamboat  owner.  When  the  government  was  paying  a 


B 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


large  subsidy  for  carrying  the  European  mails,  lie  offered 
to  carry  them  free  and  give  better  service.  His  offer 
was  accepted,  and  in  this  way  he  soon  built  up  an  enor¬ 
mous  freight  and  passenger  traffic. 

Foreseeing  the  great  future  of  railroads  in  a  country 
like  ours,  he  plunged  into  railroad  enterprises  with  all 
his  might,  laying  the  foundation  for  the  vast  Vanderbilt 
system  of  to-day. 

Young  Philip  Armour  joined  the  long  caravan  of  Forty- 
Niners,  and  crossed  the  “  Great  American  Desert  ”  with 
all  his  possessions  in  a  prairie  schooner  drawm  by  mules. 
Hard  work  and  steady  gains  carefully  saved  in  the 
mines  enabled  him  to  start,  six  years  later,  in  the  grain 
and  warehouse  business  in  Milwaukee.  In  nine  years 
he  made  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  But  he  saw 
his  great  opportunity  in  Grant’s  order,  “On  to  Rich¬ 
mond.”  One  morning  in  1864,  he  knocked  at  the  door 
of  Plankinton,  partner  in  his  venture  as  a  pork  packer. 
“  I  am  going  to  take  the  next  train  to  New  York,”  said 
he,  “  to  sell  pork  ‘  short.’  Grant  and  Sherman  have  the 
rebellion  by  the  throat,  and  pork  will  go  down  to  twelve 
dollars  a  barrel.”  This  was  his  opportunity.  He  went 
to  New  York  and  offered  pork  in  large  quantities  at 
forty  dollars  per  barrel.  It  was  eagerly  taken.  The 
shrewd  Wall  Street  speculators  laughed  at  the  young 
Westerner,  and  told  him  pork  would  go  to  sixty  dollars, 
for  the  war  was  not  nearly  over.  Mr.  Armour  kept  on 
selling.  Grant  continued  to  advance.  Richmond  fell, 
and  pork  fell  with  it  to  twelve  dollars  a  barrel.  Mr. 
Armour  cleared  two  millions  of  dollars. 

John  D.  Rockefeller  saw  his  opportunity  in  petroleum. 
Pie  could  see  a  large  population  in  this  country,  with 
very  poor  lights.  Petroleum  was  plenty,  but  the  refin¬ 
ing  process  was  so  crude  that  the  product  was  inferior, 
and  not  wholly  safe.  Here  was  his  chance.  Taking 
into  partnership  Samuel  Andrews,  the  porter  in  a  ma¬ 
chine  shop  where  both  had  worked,  Mr.  Rockefeller 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  15 


let 

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ith  I 

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ars 

aw 

cli* 

oor 


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started  a  single  barrel  still  in  1870,  using  an  improved 
process  discovered  by  bis  partner.  They  made  a  supe¬ 
rior  grade  of  oil  and  prospered  rapidly.  They  soon  ad¬ 
mitted  the  third  partner,  Mr.  Flagler,  but  Andrews 
soon  became  dissatisfied.  “What  will  you  take  for 
your  interest  ?  ”  asked  Rockefeller.  Andrews  wrote 
carelessly  on  a  piece  of  paper,  “  One  million  dollars.” 
Within  twenty-four  hours  Mr.  Rockefeller  handed  him 
the  amount,  saying,  “Cheaper  at  one  million  than  ten.” 
In  twenty  years  the  business  of  the  little  refinery,  not 
worth  one  thousand  dollars  for  building  and  apparatus, 
had  grown  into  the  Standard  Oil  Trust,  capitalized  at 
ninety  millions  of  dollars,  with  stock  quoted  at  170, 
giving  a  market  value  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  mil¬ 
lions. 

These  are  illustrations  of  seizing  opportunity  for  the 
purpose  of  making  money.  But  fortunately  there  is  a 
new  generation  of  electricians,  of  engineers,  of  scholars, 
of  artists,  of  authors,  and  of  poets,  who  find  opportuni¬ 
ties,  thick  as  thistles,  for  doing  something  nobler  than 
merely  becoming  rich.  Wealth  is  not  an  end  to  strive 
for,  but  an  opportunity;  not  the  climax  of  a  maids 
career,  but  the  beginning. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Fry,  a  Quaker  lady,  saw  her  opportu¬ 
nity  in  the  prisons  of  England.  From  three  hundred 
to  four  hundred  half-naked  women,  as  late  as  1813, 
would  often  be  huddled  in  a  single  ward  of  Newgate, 
London,  awaiting  trial.  They  had  neither  beds  nor 
bedding,  but  women,  old  and  young,  and  little  girls, 
slept  in  filth  and  rags  on  the  floor.  No  one  seemed  to 
care  for  them,  and  the  Government  furnished  simply 
food  to  keep  them  alive.  She  visited  Newgate,  calmed 
the  howling  mob,  and  told  them  she  wished  to  establish 
a  school  for  the  young  women  and  the  girls,  and  asked 
them  to  select  a  schoolmistress  from  their  own  number. 
They  were  amazed,  but  chose  a  young  woman  who  had 
been  committed  for  stealing  a  watch.  In  three  months 


16 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


these  “wild  beasts,”  as  they  were  sometimes  called, 
were  tame,  and  became  harmless  and  kind.  The  reform 
spread  until  the  Government  legalized  the  system,  and 
good  women  throughout  Great  Britain  became  interested 
in  the  work  of  educating  and  clothing  these  outcasts. 
Fourscore  years  have  passed,  and  her  plan  has  been 
adopted  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

A  boy  in  England  had  been  run  over  by  the  cars,  and 
the  bright  blood  spurted  from  a  severed  artery.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  what  to  do  until  another  boy,  Astley 
Cooper,  took  his  handkerchief  and  stopped  the  bleeding 
by  pressure  above  the  wound.  The  praise  which  Astley 
received  for  thus  saving  the  boy’s  life  encouraged  him 
to  become  a  surgeon,  the  foremost  of  his  day. 

“  The  time  comes  to  the  young  surgeon,”  says  Arnold, 
“when,  after  long  waiting,  and  patient  study  and  ex¬ 
periment,  he  is  suddenly  confronted  with  his  first  criti¬ 
cal  operation.  The  great  surgeon  is  away.  Time  is 
pressing.  Life  and  death  hang  in  the  balance.  Is  he 
equal  to  the  emergency  ?  Can  he  fill  the  great  surgeon’s 
place,  and  do  his  work  ?  If  he  can,  he  is  the  one  of  all 
others  who  is  wanted.  II is  opportunity  confronts  him. 
He  and  it  are  face  to  face.  Shall  he  confess  his  igno¬ 
rance  and  inability,  or  step  into  fame  and  fortune  ?  It 
is  for  him  to  say.” 

Are  you  prepared  for  a  great  opportunity  ? 

“Hawthorne  dined  one  day  with  Longfellow,”  said 
James  T.  Fields^  “and  brought  a  friend  with  him  from 
Salem.  After  dinner  the  friend  said,  ‘ 1  have  been  try¬ 
ing  to  persuade  Hawthorne  to  write  a  story  based  upon 
a  legend  of  Acadia,  and  still  current  there, -  —  the  legend 
of  a  girl  who,  in  the  dispersion  of  the  Acadians,  was 
separated  from  her  lover,  and  passed  her  life  in  wait¬ 
ing  and  seeking  for  him,  and  only  found  him  dying  in 
a  hospital  when  both  were  old.’  Longfellow  wondered 
that  the  legend  did  not  strike  the  fancy  of  Hawthorne, 
and  he  said  to  him,  1  If  you  have  really  made  up  your 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  17 


mind  not  to  use  it  for  a  story,  will  you  let  me  have  it 
for  a  poem  ?  ’  To  this  Hawthorne  consented,  and  prom¬ 
ised,  moreover,  not  to  treat  the  subject  in  prose  till 
Longfellow  had  seen  what  he  could  do  with  it  in  verse. 
Longfellow  seized  his  opportunity  and  gave  to  the  world 
1  Evangeline,  or  the  Exile  of  the  Acadians.’  ” 

Of  what  value  was  the  old  story  of  Shylock  and  his 
pound  of  flesh  (contained  in  a  dozen  lines)  till  Shake^ 
speare  touched  it  with  his  magic  pen  and  transformed 
it  into  a  realistic  drama  ? 

Open  eyes  will  discover  opportunities  everywhere ; 
open  ears  will  never  fail  to  detect  the  cries  of  those  who 
are  perishing  for  assistance  ;  open  hearts  will  never 
want  for  worthy  objects  upon  which  to  bestow  their 
gifts ;  open  hands  will  never  lack  for  noble  work  to  do. 

Everybody  had  noticed  the  overflow  when  a  solid  is 
immersed  in  a  vessel  filled  with  water,  although  no  one 
had  made  use  of  his  knowledge  that  the  body  displaces 
its  exact  bulk  of  liquid ;  but  when  Archimedes  observed 
the  fact,  he  perceived  therein  an  easy  method  of  finding 
the  cubical  contents  of  objects,  however  irregular  in 
shape.  Everybody  knew  how  steadily  a  suspended 
weight,  when  moved,  sways  back  and  forth  until  friction 
and  the  resistance  of  the  air  bring  it  to  rest,  yet  no  one 
considered  this  information  of  the  slightest  practical  im¬ 
portance  ;  but  the  boy  Galileo,  as  he  watched  a  lamp  left 
swinging  by  accident  in  the  cathedral  at  Pisa,  saw  in 
the  regularity  of  those  oscillations  the  useful  principle 
of  the  pendulum.  Even  the  iron  doors  of  a  prison  were 
not  enough  to  shut  him  out  from  research,  for  he  experi¬ 
mented  with  the  straw  of  his  cell,  and  learned  valuable 
lessons  about  the  relative  strength  of  tubes  and  rods  of 
equal  diameters.  For  ages  astronomers  had  been  fami¬ 
liar  with  the  rings  of  Saturn,  and  regarded  them  merely 
as  curious  exceptions  to  the  supposed  law  of  planetary 
formation ;  but  Laplace  saw  that,  instead  of  being  ex¬ 
ceptions,  they  are  the  sole  remaining  visible  evidences 


18 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


of  certain  stages  in  the  invariable  process  of  star  man* 
ufacture,  and  from  their  mute  testimony  he  added  a  val* 
uable  chapter  to  the  scientific  history  of  Creation.  There 
was  not  a  sailor  in  Europe  who  had  not  wondered  what 
might  lie  beyond  the  Western  Ocean,  but  it  remained 
for  Columbus  to  steer  boldly  out  into  an  unknown  sea 
and  discover  a  new  world.  Innumerable  apples  had 
fallen  from  trees,  often  hitting  heedless  men  on  the 
head  as  if  to  set  them  thinking,  but  not  before  Newton 
did  any  one  realize  that  they  fall  to  the  earth  by  the 
same  law  which  holds  the  planets  in  their  courses,  and 
prevents  the  momentum  of  all  the  atoms  in  the  universe 
from  hurling  them  wildly  back  to  chaos.  Lightning  had 
dazzled  the  eyes,  and  thunder  had  jarred  the  ears  of  men 
since  the  days  of  Adam,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  call 
their  attention  to  the  all-pervading  and  tremendous 
energy  of  electricity  ;  but  the  discharges  of  Heaven’s  ar¬ 
tillery  were  seen  and  heard  only  by  the  eye  and  ear  of 
terror  until  Franklin,  by  a  simple  experiment,  proved 
that  lightning  is  but  one  manifestation  of  a  resistless 
yet  controllable  force,  abundant  as  air  and  water. 

Like  many  others,  these  men  are  considered  great, 
simply  because  they  improved  opportunities  common  to 
the  whole  human  race.  Lead  the  story  of  any  success¬ 
ful  man  and  mark  its  moral,  told  thousands  of  years  ago 
by  Solomon  :  “  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  business  ? 
he  shall  stand  before  kings.”  This  proverb  is  well  il¬ 
lustrated  by  the  career  of  the  industrious  Franklin,  for 
he  stood  before  five  kings  and  dined  with  two. 

He  who  improves  an  opportunity  sows  a  seed  which 
will  yield  fruit  in  opportunity  for  himself  and  others. 
Every  one  who  has  labored  honestly  in  the  past  has 
aided  to  place  knowledge  and  comfort  within  the  reach 
of  a  constantly  increasing  number. 

Avenues  greater  in  number,  wider  in  extent,  easier  of 
access  than  ever  before  existed,  stand  open  to  the  sober, 
frugal,  energetic  and  able  mechanic,  to  the  educated 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  19 


youth,  to  the  office  boy  and  to  the  clerk  —  avenues 
through  which  they  can  reap  greater  successes  than  ever 
before  within  the  reach  of  these  classes  within  the  his¬ 
tory  of  the  world.  A  little  while  ago  there  were  only 
three  or  four  professions  —  now  there  are  fifty.  And 
of  trades,  where  there  was  one,  there  are  a  hundred 
now. 

“  Opportunity  has  hair  in  front, 77  says  a  Latin  author  r 
behind  she  is  bald ;  if  you  seize  her  by  the  forelock, 
you  may  hold  her,  but,  if  suffered  to  escape,  not  Jupiter 
himself  can  catch  her  again.77 

But  what  is  the  best  opportunity  to  him  who  cannot 
or  will  not  use  it  ? 

“  It  was  my  lot/7  said  a  shipmaster,  “to  fall  in  with 
the  ill-fated  steamer  Central  America.  The  night  was 
closing  in,  the  sea  rolling  high  ;  but  I  hailed  the  crippled 
steamer  and  asked  if  they  needed  help.  1 1  am  in  a  sink¬ 
ing  condition/  cried  Captain  Herndon.  ‘  Had  you  not 
better  send  your  passengers  on  board  directly  ? 7  I  asked. 
‘  Will  you  not  lay  by  me  until  morning  ? 7  replied  Cap¬ 
tain  Herndon.  ‘I  will  try/  I  answered,  ‘but  had  you 
not  better  send  your  passengers  on  board  now  ? 7  ‘  Lay 

by  me  till  morning/  again  shouted  Captain  Herndon. 

“  I  tried  to  lay  by  him,  but  at  night,  such  was  the 
heavy  roll  of  the  sea,  I  could  not  keep  my  position,  and 
I  never  saw  the  steamer  again.  In  an  hour  and  a  half 
after  the  Captain  said,  ‘  Lay  by  me  till  morning/  his 
vessel,  with  its  living  freight,  went  down.  The  Captain 
and  crew  and  most  of  the  passengers  found  a  grave  in 
the  deep.77 

Captain  Herndon  appreciated  the  value  of  the  oppor¬ 
tunity  he  had  neglected  when  it  was  beyond  his  reach, 
but  of  what  avail  was  the  bitterness  of  his  self-reproach 
when  his  last  moments  came  ?  How  many  lives  were 
sacrificed  to  his  unintelligent  hopefulness  and  indeci¬ 
sion  !  Like  him  the  feeble,  the  sluggish,  and  the  pur¬ 
poseless  too  often  see  no  meaning  in  the  happiest  occa^ 


20 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


sions,  until  too  late  they  learn  the  old  lesson  that  the 
mill  can  never  grind  with  the  water  which  has  passed. 

Such  people  are  always  a  little  too  late  or  a  little  too 
early  in  everything  they  attempt.  “They  have  three 
hands  apiece/’  said  John  B.  Gough ;  “  a  right  hand,  a 
left  hand,  and  a  little  behindhand.”  As  boys,  they 
were  late  at  school,  and  unpunctual  in  their  home  duties. 
That  is  the  way  the  habit  is  acquired ;  and  now,  when 
responsibility  claims  them,  they  think  that  if  they  had 
only  gone  yesterday  they  would  have  obtained  the  sit¬ 
uation,  or  they  can  probably  get  one  to-morrow.  They 
remember  plenty  of  chances  to  make  money,  or  know 
how  to  make  it  some  other  time  than  now  ;  they  see  how 
to  improve  themselves  or  help  others  in  the  future,  but 
perceive  no  opportunity  in  the  present.  They  are  always 
at  the  pool,  but  somehow,  when  the  angel  troubles  the 
water,  there  is  no  one  to  put  them  in.  They  cannot 
seize  their  opportunity. 

Joe  Stoker,  rear  brakeman  on  the - accommoda¬ 

tion  train,  was  exceedingly  popular  with  all  the  railroad 
men.  The  passengers  liked  him,  too,  for  he  was  eager 
to  please  and  always  ready  to  answer  questions.  But 
he  did  not  realize  the  full  responsibility  of  his  position. 
He  “  took  the  world  easy,”  and  occasionally  tippled ; 
and  if  any  one  remonstrated,  he  would  give  one  of  his 
brightest  smiles,  and  reply  in  such  a  good-natured  way 
that  the  friend  would  think  he  had  overestimated  the 
danger:  “  Thank  you.  I  ’m  all  right.  Don’t  you  worry.” 

One  evening  there  was  a  heavy  snowstorm,  and  his 
train  was  delayed.  Joe  complained  of  extra  duties 
because  of  the  storm,  and  slyly  sipped  occasional 
draughts  from  a  flat  bottle.  Soon  he  became  quite 
jolly ;  but  the  conductor  and  engineer  of  the  train  were 
both  vigilant  and  anxious. 

Between  two  stations  the  train  came  to  a  quick  halt 
The  engine  had  blown  out  its  cylinder  head,  and  an  ex- 
press  was  due  in  a  few  minutes  upon  the  same  track 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  21 


The  conductor  hurried  to  the  rear  car,  and  ordered  Joe 
back  with  a  red  light.  The  brakeman  laughed  and  said : 

“  There ’s  no  hurry.  Wait  till  I  get  my  overcoat.” 

The  conductor  answered  gravely,  “  Don’t  stop  a 
minute,  Joe.  The  express  is  due.” 

“  All  right,”  said  Joe,  smilingly.  The  conductor  then 
hurried  forward  to  the  engine. 

But  the  brakeman  did  not  go  at  once.  He  stopped  to 
put  on  his  overcoat.  Then  he  took  another  sip  from 
the  flat  bottle  to  keep  the  cold  out.  Then  he  slowly 
grasped  the  lantern  and,  whistling,  moved  leisurely 
down  the  track. 

He  had  not  gone  ten  paces  before  lie  heard  the  puf¬ 
fing  of  the  express.  Then  he  ran  for  the  curve,  but  it 
was  too  late.  In  a  horrible  minute  the  engine  of  the 
express  had  telescoped  the  standing  train,  and  the 
shrieks  of  the  mangled  passengers  mingled  with  the 
hissing  escape  of  steam. 

Later  on,  when  they  asked  for  Joe,  he  had  disap¬ 
peared  ;  but  the  next  day  he  was  found  in  a  barn,  deliri¬ 
ous,  swinging  an  empty  lantern  in  front  of  an  imaginary 
train,  and  crying,  “  Oh,  that  I  had  !  ” 

He  was  taken  home,  and  afterward  to  an  asylum,  for 
this  is  a  true  story,  and  there  is  no  sadder  sound  in  that 
sad  place  than  the  unceasing  moan,  “  Oh,  that  I  had  !  ” 
“  Oh,  that  I  had  !  ”  of  the  unfortunate  brakeman,  whose 
criminal  indulgence  brought  disaster  to  many  lives. 

u  Oh,  that  I  had  !  ”  or  “  Oh,  that  I  had  not !  ”  is  the 
silent  cry  of  many  a  man  who  would  give  life  itself  for 
the  opportunity  to  go  back  and  retrieve  some  long-past 
error. 


“  There  are  moments,”  says  Dean  Alford,  “  which  are 
worth  more  than  years.  W e  cannot  help  it.  There  is 
no  proportion  between  spaces  of  time  in  importance  noT 
in  value.  A  stray,  unthought-of  five  minutes  may  con 
tain  the  event  of  a  life.  And  this  all-important  mo 
ment  —  who  can  tell  when  it  will  be  upon  us  ?  ” 


22 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“What  we  call  a  turning-point,”  says  Arnold,  “is 
simply  an  occasion  which  sums  up  and  brings  to  a  re¬ 
sult  previous  training.  Accidental  circumstances  are 
nothing  except  to  men  who  have  been  trained  to  take 
advantage  of  them.”  An  opportunity  will  only  make 
you  ridiculous  unless  you  are  prepared  for  it. 

The  trouble  with  us  is  that  we  are  ever  looking  for  a 
princely  chance  of  acquiring  riches,  or  fame,  or  worth. 
We  are  dazzled  by  what  Emerson  calls  the  “  shallow 
A.mericanism  ”  of  the  day.  We  are  expecting  mastery 
without  apprenticeship,  knowledge  without  study,  and 
riches  by  credit.  Because  the  politician  acquires  power 
by  bribing  the  caucus,  influence  by  “  standing  in  ”  with 
the  saloon  keeper,  wealth  by  fraud,  and  immunity  from 
conviction  by  packing  the  jury,  we  are  cozened  into 
looking  at  life  through,  a  distorted  lens.  These  are 
opportunities  to  be  shunned  like  the  cholera.  They 
appear  to  rest  upon  a  solid  foundation,  but  they  lead  to 
infamy,  and  crime,  and  harmfulness  to  mankind,  and 
perhaps  suicide. 

It  is  a  common  saying  that  “  Luck  beats  science  every 
time.”  But  this  is  the  gambler’s  maxim,  the  fool’s 
v  motto. 

Young  men  and  women,  why  stand  ye  here  all  the 
day  idle  ?  Was  the  land  all  occupied  before  you  were 
born  ?  Has  the  earth  ceased  to  yield  its  increase  ?  Are 
the  seats  all  taken  ?  the  positions  all  filled  ?  the  chances 
all  gone  ?  Are  the  resources  of  your  country  fully  de¬ 
veloped  ?  Are  the  secrets  of  nature  all  mastered  ?  Is 
there  no  way  in  which  you  can  utilize  these  passing  mo¬ 
ments  to  improve  yourself  or  benefit  another  ?  Is  the 
competition  of  modern  existence  so  fierce  that  you  must 
be  content  to  simply  gain  an  honest  living  ?  Have  you 
received  the  gift  of  life  in  this  progressive  age,  wherein 
all  the  experience  of  the  past  is  garnered  for  your  in¬ 
spiration,  merely  that  you  may  increase  by  one  the  sum 
total  of  purely  animal  existence  ? 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  23 


The  new  is  supplanting  the  old  everywhere.  The 
machinery  of  ten  years  ago  must  soon  be  sold  as  old 
iron  to  make  room  for  something  more  efficient.  The 
methods  of  our  fathers  are  daily  giving  place  to  better 
systems.  Those  who  have,  devoted  their  lives  to  the 
cause  of  labor  and  progress  are  constantly  falling  in  the 
ranks  ;  and,  as  the  struggle  grows  more  intense,  men 
and  women  with  even  stronger  arms  and  truer  hearts 
are  needed  to  take  the  vacant  places  in  the  Battle  of 
Life. 

Born  in  an  age  and  country  in  which  knowledge  and 
opportunity  abound  as  never  before,  how  can  you  sit 
with  folded  hands,  asking  God’s  aid  in  work  for  which 
He  has  already  given  you  the  necessary  faculties  and 
strength  ?  Even  when  the  Chosen  People  supposed 
their  progress  checked  by  the  Bed  Sea,  and  their  leader 
paused  for  Divine  help,  the  Lord  said,  “  Wherefore 
criest  thou  unto  me  ?  Speak  unto  the  children  of 
Israel,  that  they  go  forward .” 

nVith  the  world  full  of  work  that  needs  to  be  done ; 
with  human  nature  so  constituted  that  often  a  pleasant 
word  or  a  trifling  assistance  may  stem  the  tide  of  disas¬ 
ter  for  some  fellow-man,  or  clear  Lis  path  to  success  j 
with  our  own  faculties  so  arranged  that  in  honest, 
earnest,  persistent  endeavor  we  find  our  highest  good; 
and  with  countless  noble  examples  to  encourage  us  to 
dare  and  to  do,  each  moment  brings  us  to  the  threshold 
of  some  new  opportunity.  .  » 

Don’t  wait  for  your  opportunity.  Make  it,  | —  make 
it  as  the  shepherd-boy  Eerguson  made  his  when  he 
calculated  the  distances  of  the  stars  with  a  handful  of 
glass  beads  on  a  string.  Make  it  as  George  Stephenson 
made  his  when  he  mastered  the  rules  of  mathematics 
with  a  bit  of  chalk  on  the  grimy  sides  of  the  coal 
wagons  in  the  mines.  Make  it,  as  Napoleon  made  his 
in  a  hundred  “impossible”  situations.  Make  it,  as  all 
leaders  of  men,  in  war  and  in  peace,  have  made  their 


24 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


V J 


chances  of  success.  Make  it,  as  every  man  must ,  who 
would  accomplish  anything  worth  the  effort.  Golden 
opportunities  are  nothing  to  laziness,  but  industry 
makes  the  commonest  chances  golden. 

“  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 

Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 

Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries ; 

And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 

Or  lose  our  ventures.” 

5  ’T  is  never  offered  twice;  seize,  then,  the  hour 
When  fortune  smiles,  and  duty  points  the  way; 

Nor  shrink  aside  to  ’scape  the  spectre  fear, 

Nor  pause,  though  pleasure  beckon  from  her  bower; 

But  bravely  bear  tbee  onward  to  the  goal.’ 


CHAPTER  II. 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 

* 

In  the  blackest  soils  grow  the  fairest  flowers,  and  the  loftiest  and  strong* 
8st  trees  spring  heavenward  among  the  rocks. — J.  G.  Holland. 

Poverty  is  very  terrible,  and  sometimes  kills  the  very  soul  within  us,  but 
it  is  the  north  wind  that  lashes  men  into  Vikings;  it  is  the  soft,  luscious 
south  wind  which  lulls  them  to  lotus  dreams.  —  Ouida. 

Want  is  a  bitter  and  a  hateful  good, 

Because  its  virtues  are  not  understood; 

Yet  many  things,  impossible  to  thought, 

Have  been  by  need  to  full  perfection  brought. 

The  daring  of  the  soul  proceeds  from  thence  — 

Sharpness  of  wit  and  active  diligence. 

Prudence  at  once  and  fortitude  it  gives, 

And  if  in  patience  taken,  mends  our  lives. 

Dryden. 

Poverty  is  the  sixth  sense.  —  German  Proverb. 

It  is  not  every  calamity  that  is  a  curse,  and  early  adversity  is  often  a 
blessing.  Surmounted  difficulties  not  only  teach,  but  hearten  us  in  our 
future  struggles.  —  Sharpe. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  captains  of  industry  to-day,  using  that 
term  in  its  broadest  sense,  are  men  who  began  life  as  poor  boys.  —  Seth 

Low. 

*T  is  a  common  proof, 

That  lowliness  is  young  ambition’s  ladder! 

Shakespeare. 

“  I  am  a  child  of  the  court,”  said  a  pretty  little  girl 
at  a  children’s  party  in  Denmark;  11  my  father  is  Groom 
of  the  Chambers,  which  is  a  very  high  office.  And 
those  whose  names  end  with  1  sen,’  ”  she  added,  “  can 
never  be  anything  at  all.  We  must  put  our  arms 
akimbo,  and  make  the  elbows  quite  pointed,  so  as  to 
keep  these  ‘  sen 9  people  at  a  great  distance.”’ 

“  But  my  papa  can  buy  a  hundred  dollars’  worth  of 
bonbons,  and  give  them  away  to  children,”  angrily 
exclaimed  the  daughter  of  the  rich  merchant  Peter sen. 
“  Can  your  papa  do  that  ?  ” 


26 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


"Yes,”  chimed  in  the  daughter  of  an  editor,  "my 
papa  can  put  your  papa  and  everybody’s  papa  into  the 
newspaper.  All  sorts  of  people  are  afraid  of  him,  my 
papa  says,  for  he  can  do  as  he  likes  with  the  paper.” 

“  Oh,  if  I  could  be  one  of  them!”  thought  a  little 
boy  peeping  through  the  crack  of  the  door,  by  permis- 
sion  of  the  cook  for  whom  he  had  been  turning  the  spit 
But  no,  his  parents  had  not  even  a  penny  to  spare,  and 
his  name  ended  in  "sen.” 

Years  afterwards,  when  the  children  of  the  party 
had  become  men  and  women,  some  of  them  went  to  see 
a  splendid  house,  filled  with  all  kinds  of  beautiful  and 
valuable  objects.  There  they  met  the  owner,  once  the 
very  boy  who  thought  it  so  great  a  privilege  to  peep  at 
them  through  a  crack  in  the  door  as  they  played.  He 
had  become  the  great  sculptor  Thorwaldse^. 

This  sketch  is  adapted  from  a  story  by  a  poor  Danish 
cobbler’s  boy,  whose  name  did  not  keep  him  from  be¬ 
coming  famous,  —  Plans  Christian  Andersew. 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  my  starving,  father,”  said  the 
deaf  boy,  Kitto,  begging  to  be  taken  from  the  poor- 
house  and  allowed  to  struggle  for  an  education ;  "  we 
are  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  and  I  know  how  to  prevent 
hunger.  The  Hottentots  subsist  a  long  time  on  no¬ 
thing  but  a  little  gum ;  they  also,  when  hungry,  tie  a 
ligature  around  their  bodies.  Cannot  I  do  so,  too  ? 
The  hedges  furnish  blackberries '  and  nuts,  and  the 
fields,  turnips ;  a  hayrick  will  make  an  excellent  bed.” 

This  poor  deaf  boy  with  a  drunken  father,  who  was 
thought  capable  of  nothing  better  than  making  shoes 
as  a  pauper,  became  one  of  the  greatest  biblical  schol¬ 
ars  in  the  world.  Plis  first  book  was  written  in  the 
workhouse*. 

Creon  was  a  Greek  slave,  as  a  writer  tells  the  story 
in  Kate  Field’s  "  Washington,”  but  he  was  also  a  slave 
of  the  Genius  of  Art.  Beauty  was  his  god,  and  ho 
worshiped  it  with  rapt  adoration.  It  was  after  the 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


27 


repulse  of  the  great  Persian  invader,  and  a  law  was  in 
force,  that  under  penalty  of  death  no  one  should  es¬ 
pouse  art  except  freemen.  When  the  law  was  enacted 
he  was  engaged  upon  a  group  for  which  he  hoped  some 
day  to  receive  the  commendation  of  Phidias,  the  great¬ 
est  sculptor  living,  and  even  the  praise  of  Pericles. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Into  the  marble  block  before 
him  Creon  had  put  his  head,  his  heart,  his  soul,  his 
life.  On  his  knees,  from  day  to  day,  he  had  prayed 
for  fresh  inspiration,  new  skill.  He  believed,  grate¬ 
fully  and  proudly,  that  Apollo,  answering  his  prayers, 
had  directed  his  hand  and  had  breathed  into  the  figures 
the  life  that  seemed  to  animate  them  ;  but  now,  —  now, 
all  the  gods  seemed  to  have  deserted  him. 

Cleone,  the  devoted  sister  of  Creon,  felt  the  blow  as 
deeply  as  her  brother.  “  0  Aphrodite !  ”  she  prayed, 
“  immortal  Aphrodite,  high  enthroned  child  of  Zeus, 
my  queen,  my  goddess,  my  patron,  at  whose  shrine  I 
have  daily  laid  my  offerings,  be  now  my  friend,  the 
friend  of  my  brother  !  ” 

Then  to  her  brother  she  said  :  “  0  Creon,  go  to  the 
cellar  beneath  our  house.  It  is  dark,  but  I  will  furnish 
light  and  food.  Continue  your  work  ;  the  gods  will 
befriend  us.” 

To  the  cellar  Creon  went,  and  guarded  and  attended 
by  his  sister,  day  and  night,  he  proceeded  with  his  glo¬ 
rious  but  dangerous  task. 

About  this  time  all  Greece  was  invited  to  Athens  to 
behold  an  exhibit  of  works  of  art.  The  display  took 
place  in  the  Agora.  Pericles  presided.  At  his  side 
was  Aspasia.  Phidias,  Socrates,  Sophocles,  and  other 
renowned  men  stood  near  him. 

The  works  of  the  great  masters  were  there.  But  one 
group,  far  more  beautiful  than  the  rest,  —  a  group  that 
Apollo  himself  must  have  chiseled,  —  challenged  univer¬ 
sal  attention,  exciting  at  the  ^ame  time  no  little  envy 
among  rival  artists. 


28 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  Who  is  the  sculptor  of  this  group  ?  ”  None  could 
tell.  Heralds  repeated  the  question,  but  there  was  no 
answer.  “  A  mystery,  then  !  Can  it  be  the  work  of  a 
slave  ?  ”  Amid  great  commotion  a  beautiful  maiden 
with  disarranged  dress,  disheveled  hair,  a  determined 
expression  in  her  eyes,  and  with  closed  lips,  was  dragged 
into  the  Agora.  “  This  woman,”  cried  the  officers,  “  this 
woman  knows  the  sculptor ;  we  are  sure  of  this  ;  but  she 
will  not  tell  his  name.” 

Cleone  was  questioned,  but  was  silent.  She  was  in¬ 
formed  of  the  penalty  of  her  conduct,  but  her  lips 
remained  closed.  “Then,”  said  Pericles,  “the  law  is 
imperative,  and  I  am  the  minister  of  the  law.  Take  the 
maid  to  the  dungeon.” 

As  he  spoke,  a  youth  with  flowing  hair,  emaciated, 
but  with  black  eyes  that  beamed  with  the  flashing  light 
of  genius,  rushed  forward,  and  flinging  himself  before 
Pericles,  exclaimed  :  “  0  Pericles,  forgive  and  save  the 
maid.  She  is  my  sister.  I  am  the  culprit.  The  group 
is  the  work  of  my  hands,  the  hands  of  a  slave.” 

The  indignant  crowd  interrupted  him  and  cried,  “  To 
the  dungeon,  to  the  dungeon  with  the  slave.”  “  As  I 
live,  no  !  ”  said  Pericles  rising.  “  Behold  that  group  ! 
Apollo  decides  by  it  that  there  is  something  higher  in 
Greece  than  an  unjust  law.  The  highest  purpose  of 
law  should  be  the  development  of  the  beautiful.  If 
Athens  lives  in  the  memory  and  affections  of  men,  it  is 
her  devotion  to  art  that  will  immortalize  her.  Not  to 
the  dungeon,  but  to  my  side  bring  the  youth.” 

And  there,  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  multitude, 
Aspasia  placed  the  crown  of  olives,  which  she  held  in 
her  hands,  on  the  brow  of  Creon ;  and  at  the  same  time, 
amid  universal  plaudits,  she  tenderly  kissed  Creon’s 
affectionate  and  devoted  sister. 

The  Athenians  erected  a  statue  to  HSsop,  who  was 
born  a  slave,  that  men  might  know  that  the  way  to 
honor  is  open  to  all.  In  Greece,  wealth  and  immortality 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


29 


were  the  sure  reward  of  the  man  who  could  distinguish 
himself  in  art,  literature,  or  war.  No  other  country 
ever  did  so  much  to  encourage  and  inspire  struggling 
merit.  Genius,  achievement,  beauty,  were  worshiped 
by  the  Greeks. 

“  I  was  bom  in  poverty,”  said  Vice-President  Henry 
Wilson.  “  Want  sat  by  my  cradle.  I  know  what  it  is 
to  ask  a  mother  for  bread  when  she  has  none  to  give< 

I  left  my  home  at  ten  years  of  age,  and  served  an  ap¬ 
prenticeship  of  eleven  years,  receiving  a  month’s  school¬ 
ing  each  year,  and,  at  the  end  of  eleven  years  of  hard 
work,  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  six  sheep,  which  brought  me 
eighty-four  dollars.  I  never  spent  the  sum  of  one 
dollar  for  pleasure,  counting  every  penny  from  the 
time  I  was  born  till  I  was  twenty-one  years  of  age.  I 
know  what  it  is  to  travel  weary  miles  and  ask  my  fel¬ 
low  men  to  give  me  leave  to  toil.  .  .  .  In  the  first  month 
after  I  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  I  went  into  the 
woods,  drove  a  team,  and  cut  mill-logs.  I  rose  in  the 
morning  before  daylight  and  worked  hard  till  after  dark, 
and  received  the  magnificent  sum  of  six  dollars  for  the 
month’s  work !  Each  of  these  dollars  looked  as  large 
to  me  as  the  moon  looks  to-night.” 

Mr.  Wilson  determined  to  never  lose  an  opportunity 
for  self-culture  or  self-advancement.  Few  men  knew  so 
well  the  value  of  spare  moments.  He  seized  them  as 
though  they  were  gold  and  would  not  let  one  pass  until 
he  had  wrung  from  it  every  possibility.  He  managed  * 
to  read  a  thousand  good  books  before  he  was  twenty-one 
—  what  a  lesson  for  boys  on  a  farm  !  When  he  left  the 
farm  he  started  on  foot  for  Natick,  Mass.,  over  one  hun¬ 
dred  miles  distant,  to  learn  the  cobbler’s  trade.  He 
went  through  Boston  that  he  might  see  Bunker  Hill 
monument  and  other  historical  landmarks.  The  whole 
trip  cost  him  but  one  dollar  and  six  cents.  In  a  year  he 
was  at  the  head  of  a  debating  club  at  Natick.  Before 
eight  years  had  passed,  he  made  Ins  great  speech  against 


&  •'  .VI,, 


30 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


slavery,  in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature.  Twelve  years 
later  he  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  polished 
Sumner  in  Congress.  With  him,  every  occasion  was  a 
great  occasion.  He  ground  every  circumstance  of  his  ; 
life  into  material  for  success. 

“  Don’t  go  about  the  town  any  longer  in  that  outland¬ 
ish  rig.  Let  me  give  you  an  order  on  the  store.  Dress 
up  a  little,  Horace.”  Horace  Greeley  looked  down  on 
his  clothes  as  if  he  had  never  before  noticed  how  seedy 
they  were,  and  replied :  “  You  see,  Mr.  Sterrett,  my  . 
father  is  on  a  new  place,  and  I  want  to  help  him  all  I 
can.”  He  had  spent  but  six  dollars  for  personal  ex¬ 
penses  in  seven  months,  and  was  to  receive  one  hundred 
and  thirty-five  from  Judge  J.  M.  Sterrett  of  the  Erie 
“Gazette”  for  substitute  work.  He  retained  but  fif- 

1 1 

teen  dollars  and  gave  the  rest  to  his  father,  with  whom 
he  had  moved  from  Vermont  to  Western  Pennsylvania, 
and  for  whom  he  had  camped  out  many  a  night  to  guard 
the  sheep  from  wolves.  He  was  nearly  twenty-one*, 
and,  although  tall  and  gawky,  with  tow-colored  hair,  a 
pale  face  and  whining  voice,  he  resolved  to  seek  his 
fortune  in  Hew  York  City.  Slinging  his  bundle  of 
clothes  on  a  stick  over  his  shoulder,  he  walked  sixty 
miles  through  the  woods  to  Buffalo,  rode  on  a  canal 
boat  to  Albany,  descended  the  Hudson  in  a  barge,  and 
reached  New  York,  just  as  the  sun  was  rising,  August 
18,  1831. 

He  found  board  over  a  saloon  at  two  dollars  and  a 
half  a  week.  His  journey  of  six  hundred  miles  had 
cost  him  but  five  dollars.  For  days  Horace  wandered 
up  and  down  the  streets,  going  into  scores  of  buildings 
and  asking  if  they  wanted  “  a  hand ;  ”  but  “  no  ”  was 
the  invariable  reply.  His  quaint  appearance  led  many 
to  think  he  was  an  escaped  apprentice.  One  Sunday  at 
his  boarding-place  he  heard  that  printers  were  wanted 
at  “  West’s  Printing-office.”  He  was  at  the  door  at  five 
o’clock  Monday  morning,  and  asked  the  foreman  for  a 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


31 


job  at  seven.  The  latter  had  no  idea  that  the  country 
greenhorn  could  set  type  for  the  Polyglot  Testament  on 
which  help  was  needed,  but  said :  “  Fix  up  a  case  for 
him  and  we  ’ll  see  if  he  can  do  anything.”  When  the 
proprietor  came  in,  he  objected  to  the  new-comer  and 
told  the  foreman  to  let  him  go  when  his  first  day’s  work 
was  done.  That  night  Horace  showed  a  proof  of  the 
largest  and  most  correct  day’s  work  that  had  then  been 
done.  In  ten  years  Horace  was  a  partner  in  a  small 
printing-office.  He  founded  the  “New  Yorker,”  the 
best  weekly  paper  in  the  United  States,  but  it  was  not 
profitable.  When  Harrison  was  nominated  for  Presi¬ 
dent  in  eighteen  hundred  and  forty,  Greeley  started 
“  The  Log-Cabin,”  which  reached  the  then  fabulous  cir¬ 
culation  of  ninety  thousand.  But  on  this  paper  at  a 
penny  a  copy,  he  made  no  money.  His  next  venture 
was  “The  New  York  Tribune,”  price  one  cent.  To 
start  it  he  borrowed  a  thousand  dollars  and  printed  five 
thousand  copies  of  the  first  number.  It  was  difficult  to 
give  them  all  away.  He  began  with  six  hundred  sub¬ 
scribers,  and  increased  the  list  to  eleven  thousand  m 
six  weeks.  The  demand  for  the  “  Tribune  ”  grew  faster 
than  new  machinery  could  be  obtained  to  print  it.  It 
was  a  paper  whose  editor,  whatever  his  mistakes,  always 
tried  to  be  right. 

James  Gordon  Bennett  had  made  a  failure  of  his 
“New  York  Courier”  in  eighteen  hundred  twenty-five, 
of  the  “  Globe  ”  in  eighteen  hundred  thirty -two,  and  of 
the  “  Pennsylvanian  ”  a  little  later,  and  was  only 
known  as  a  clever  writer  for  the  press,  who  had  saved 
a  few  hundred  dollars  by  hard  labor  and  strict  economy 
for  fourteen  years.  In  eighteen  hundred  thirty -five  he 
asked  Horace  Greeley  to  join  him  in  starting  a  new 
daily  paper,  the  “  New  York  Herald.”  Greeley  de¬ 
clined,  but  recommended  two  young  printers,  who 
formed  a  partnership  with  Bennett,  and  the  “  Herald  ” 
was  started  May  6,  eighteen  hundred  thirty-five,  with  a 


32 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


cash  capital  sufficient  to  pay  expenses  for  ten  days. 
Bennett  hired  a  small  cellar  on  Wall  Street,  furnished 
it  with  a  chair  and  a  desk  composed  of  a  plank  sup¬ 
ported  by  two  barrels  ;  and  there,  doing  all  the  work 
except  the  printing,  began  the  work  of  making  a  really 
great  daily  newspaper,  a  thing  then  unknown  in 
America,  as  all  its  predecessors  were  party  organs. 
Steadily  the  young  man  struggled  towards  his  ideal, 
giving  the  news,  fresh  and  crisp,  from  an  ever  widening 
area,  until  his  paper  was  famous  for  giving  the  current 
history  of  the  world  as  fully  and  quickly  as  any  com¬ 
petitor,  and  often  much  more  thoroughly  and  far  more 
promptly.  Neither  labor  nor  expense  was  spared  in 
obtaining  prompt  and  reliable  information  on  every 
topic  of  general  interest.  It  was  an  up-hill  job,  but  its 
completion  was  finally  marked  by  the  opening  at  the 
corner  of  Broadway  and  Ann  Street  of  the  most  com¬ 
plete  newspaper  establishment  then  known. 

One  of  the  first  things  that  attracts  the  attention  on 
entering  George  W.  Child’s  private  office  in  Phila¬ 
delphia  is  this  motto,  which  was  the  key-note  of  the 
success  of  a  boy  who  started  with  “  no  chance  :  ”  u  Nihil 
sine  labore.”  It  was  his  early  ambition  to  own  the 
“  Philadelphia  Ledger  ”  and  the  great  building  in  which 
it  was  published ;  but  how  could  a  poor  boy  working  for 
$2.00  a  week  ever  hope  to  own  such  a  great  paper? 
However,  he  had  great  determination  and  indomitable 
energy ;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  saved  a  few  hundred 
dollars  as  a  clerk  in  a  bookstore,  he  began  business 
as  a  publisher.  He  made  “  great  hits  ”  in  some  of  the 
works  he  published,  such  as  “  Kane’s  Arctic  Expedition.” 
He  had  a  keen  sense  of  what  would  please  the  public, 
and  there  seemed  no  end  to  his  industry. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  “  Ledger  ”  was  losing 
money  every  day,  his  friends  could  not  dissuade  him 
from  buying  it,  and  in  eighteen  hundred  sixty-four  the 
dreams  of  his  boyhood  found  fulfillment.  He  doubled 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


33 


the  subscription  price,  lowered  the  advertising  rates, 
to  the  astonishment  of  everybody,  and  the  paper 
entered  upon  a  career  of  remarkable  prosperity,  the 
profits  sometimes  amounting  to  over  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  He  always  refused  to  lower 
the  wages  of  his  employes  even  when  every  other  es- 
tablishment  in  Philadelphia  was  doing  so. 

At  a  banquet  in  Lyons,  nearly  a  century  and  a  half 
ago,  a  discussion  arose  in  regard  to  the  meaning  of  a 
painting  representing  some  scene  in  the  mythology  or 
history  of  Greece.  Seeing  that  the  discussion  was 
growing  warm,  the  host  turned  to  one  of  the  waiters 
and  asked  him  to  explain  the  picture.  Greatly  to  the 
surprise  of  the  company,  the  servant  gave  a  clear  and 
concise  account  of  the  whole  subject,  so  plain  and  con¬ 
vincing  that  it  at  once  settled  the  dispute. 

“  In  what  school  have  you  studied,  Monsieur  ? 99 
asked  one  of  the  guests,  addressing  the  waiter  with 
great  respect.  “  I  have  studied  in  many  schools,  Mon¬ 
seigneur, replied  the  young  servant :  “  but  the  school 
in  which  I  studied  longest  and  learned  most  is  the 
school  of  adversity.”  Well  had  he  profited  by  poverty’s 
lessons  ;  for,  although  then  but  a  poor  waiter,  all  Europe 
soon  rang  with  the  fame  of  the  writings  of  the  greatest 
genius  of  his  age  and  country,  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

The  smooth  sand  beach  of  Lake  Erie  constituted  the 
foolscap  on  which,  for  want  of  other  material,  P.  ft. 
Spencer,  a  barefoot  boy  with  no  chance,  perfected  the 
essential  principles  of  the  Spencerian  system  of  pen¬ 
manship,  the  most  beautiful  exposition  of  graphic  art. 

With  thirteen  halfpence  in  his  pocket  William  Cob- 
bett  started  on  foot  to  find  work  in  the  King’s  Gar¬ 
dens  at  Kew.  “  When  my  little  fortune  had  been  re 
duced  to  threepence,”  he  says,  “  I  was  trudging  through 
Richmond  in  my  blue  smock-frock  and  my  red  garters 
tied  under  my  knees,  when,  staring  about  me,  my  eyes 
fell  upon  a  little  book  in  a  bookseller’s  window,  on  the 


84 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


outside  of  which  was  written,  e  The  Tale  of  a  Tub. 
Price  3d.’  The  title  was  so  odd  that  my  curiosity  was 
excited.  I  had  threepence,  but  then  I  could  not  have 
any  supper.  In  I  went  and  got  the  little  book,  which 
I  was  so  impatient  to  read,  that  I  got  over  into  a  field 
at  the  upper  corner  of  Kew  Gardens,  where  there  stood 
a  haystack.”  Here  he  read  until  he  fell  asleep,  to  be 
awakened  by  the  birds  at  dawn.  He  found  work  at 
Kew,  and  for  eight  years  followed  the  plough,  when  he 
ran  away  to  London,  copied  law  papers  for  eight  or 
nine  months,  and  enlisted  in  an  infantry  regiment. 
During  his  first  year  of  soldier  life  he  subscribed  to  a 
circulating  library  at  Chatham,  read  every  book  in  it, 
and  began  to  study. 

“  I  learned  grammar  when  I  was  a  private  soldier  on 
the  pay  of  sixpence  a  day.  The  edge  of  my  berth,  or 
that  of  the  guard-bed,  was  my  seat  to  study  in ;  my 
knapsack  was  my  bookcase ;  a  bit  of  board  lying  on  my 
lap  was  my  writing-table,  and  the  task  did  not  demand 
anything  like  a  year  of  my  life.  I  had  no  money  to 
purchase  candles  or  oil ;  in  winter  it  was  rarely  that  I 
could  get  any  evening  light  but  that  of  the  fire,  and 
only  my  turn,  even,  of  that.  To  buy  a  pen  or  a  sheet 
of  paper  I  was  compelled  to  forego  some  portion  of  my 
food,  though  in  a  state  of  half  starvation.  I  had  no 
moment  of  time  that  I  could  call  my  own,  and  I  had  to 
read  and  write  amidst  the  talking,  laughing,  singing, 
whistling,  and  bawling  of  at  least  half  a  score  of  the 
most  thoughtless  of  men,  and  that,  too,  in  the  hours  of 
their  freedom  from  all  control.  Think  not  lightly  of 
the  farthing  I  had  to  give,  now  and  then,  for  pen,  ink, 
or  paper.  That  farthing  was,  alas  !  a  great  sum  to  me. 
I  was  as  tall  as  I  am  now,  and  I  had  great  health  and 
great  exercise.  The  whole  of  the  money  not  expended 
for  us  at  market  was  twopence  a  week  for  each  man.  1 
remember,  and  well  1  may  !  that  upon  one  occasion  1 
had,  after  all  absolutely  necessary  expenses,  on  a  Fri* 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


85 


day,  made  shift  to  have  a  half-penny  in  reserve,  which 
I  had  destined  for  the  purchase  of  a  red  herring  in  the 
morning,  but  when  I  pulled  off  my  clothes  at  night,  so 
hungry  then  as  to  be  hardly  able  to  endure  life,  I  found 
that  I  had  lost  my  half-penny.  I  buried  my  head  under 
the  miserable  sheet  and  rug,  and  cried  like  a  child.” 

But  Cobbett  made  even  his  poverty  and  hard  circum¬ 
stances  serve  his  all-absorbing  passion  for  knowledge 
and  success.  "If  I,”  said  he,  "under  such  circum¬ 
stances  could  encounter  and  overcome  this  task,  is  there, 
can  there  be  in  the  whole  world,  a  youth  to  find  any 
excuse  for  its  non-performance  ?  ” 

Humphry  Davy  had  but  a  slender  chance  to  acquire 
great  scientific  knowledge,  yet  he  had  true  mettle  in 
him,  and  he  made  even  old  pans,  kettles,  and  bottles  con¬ 
tribute  to  his  success,  as  he  experimented  and  studied 
in  the  attic  of  the  apothecary-store  where  he  worked. 

"Many  a  farmer’s  son,”  says  Thurlow  Weed,  "has 
found  the  best  opportunities  for  mental  improvement 
in  his  intervals  of  leisure  while  tending  <  sap-bush.’ 
Such,  at  any  rate,  was  my  own  experience.  At  night 
you  had  only  to  feed  the  kettles  and  keep  up  the  fires, 
the  sap  having  been  gathered  and  the  wood  cut  before 
dark.  During  the  day  we  would  always  lay  in  a  good 
stock  of  ( fat-pine  ’  by  the  light  of  which,  blazing  bright 
before  the  sugar-house,  in  the  posture  the  serpent  was 
condemned  to  assume,  as  a  penalty  for  tempting  our 
first  grandmother,  I  passed  many  a  delightful  night  in 
reading.  I  remember  in  this  way  to  have  read  a  history 
of  the  French  Devolution,  and  to  have  obtained  from  it 
a  better  and  more  enduring  knowledge  of  its  events  and 
horrors  and  of  the  actors  in  that  great  national  tragedy, 
than  I  have  received  from  all  subsequent  reading.  I 
remember  also  how  happy  I  was  in  being  able  to  borrow 
the  books  of  a  Mr.  Keyes  after  a  two-mile  tramp  through 
the  snow,  shoeless,  my  feet  swaddled  in  remnants  of 
rag  carpet.” 


86 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  May  I  have  a  holiday  to-morrow,  father  ?  ”  asked 
Theodore  Parker  one  August  afternoon.  The  poor  Lex¬ 
ington  millwright  looked  in  surprise  at  his  youngest  son, 
for  it  was  a  busy  time,  but  he  saw  from  the  boy’s  ear¬ 
nest  face  that  he  had  no  ordinary  object  in  view,  and 
granted  the  request.  Theodore  rose  very  early  the  next 
morning,  walked  through  the  dust  ten  miles  to  Harvard 
College,  and  presented  himself  as  a  candidate  for  ad= 
mission.  He  had  been  unable  to  attend  school  regularly 
since  he  was  eight  years  old,  but  he  had  managed  to  go 
three  months  each  winter,  and  had  reviewed  his  lessons 
again  and  again  as  he  followed  the  plough  or  worked  at 
other  tasks.  All  his  odd  moments  had  been  hoarded, 
too,  for  reading  useful  books,  which  he  borrowed.  One 
book  he  could  not  borrow,  but  he  felt  that  he  must  have 
it ;  so  on  summer  mornings  he  rose  long  before  the  sun 
and  picked  bushel  after  bushel  of  berries,  which  he 
sent  to  Boston,  and  so  got  the  money  to  buy  that  cov¬ 
eted  Latin  dictionary. 

“Well  done,  my  boy  !”  said  the  millwright,  when  his 
son  came  home  late  at  night  and  told  of  his  successful 
examination;  “but,  Theodore,  I  cannot  afford  to  keep 
you  there  !  ”  “  True,  father,”  said  Theodore,  “  I  am  not 

going  to  stay  there  ;  I  shall  study  at  home,  at  odd  times, 
and  thus  prepare  myself  for  a  final  examination,  which 
will  give  me  a  diploma.”  He  did  this  ;  and,  by  teach¬ 
ing  school  as  he  grew  older,  got  money  to  study  for  two 
years  at  Harvard,  where  he  was  graduated  with  honor. 
Years  after,  when,  as  the  trusted  friend  and  adviser  of 
Seward,  Chase,  Sumner,  Garrison,  Horace  Mann,  and 
Wendell  Phillips,  his  influence  for  good  was  felt  in  the 
hearts  of  all  his  countrymen,  it  was  a  pleasure  for  him 
to  recall  his  early  struggles  and  triumphs  among  the 
rocks  and  bushes  of  Lexington. 

“  The  proudest  moment  of  my  life,”  said  Elihu  Bur- 
ritt,  “  was  when  1  had  first  gained  the  full  meaning  of 
the  first  fifteen  lines  of  Homer’s  Iliad.  I  took  a  short 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


37 


triumphal  walk,  in  favor  of  that  exploit.”  His  father 
died  when  he  was  sixteen,  and  Elihu  was  apprenticed 
to  a  blacksmith  in  his  native  village  of  New  Britain, 
Conn.  He  had  to  work  at  the  forge  ten  or  twelve  hours 
a  day ;  but  while  blowing  the  bellows,  he  would  solve 
mentally  difficult  problems  in  arithmetic. 

In  a  diary  kept  at  Worcester,  whither  he  went  some 
ten  years  later  to  enjoy  its  library  privileges,  are  such 
entries  as  these,  —  “  Monday,  June  18,  headache,  40 
pages  Cuvier’s  ‘Theory  of  the  Earth,’  64  pages  French, 
11  hours’  forging.  Tuesday,  June  19,  60  lines  Hebrew, 
30  Danish,  10  lines  Bohemian,  9  lines  Polish,  15  names 
of  stars,  10  hours’  forging.  Wednesday,  June  20,  25 
lines  Hebrew,  8  lines  Syriac,  11  hours’  forging.”  He 
mastered  18  languages  and  32  dialects.  He  became 
eminent  as  the  “  Learned  Blacksmith,”  and  for  his  noble 
work  in  the  service  of  humanity.  Edward  Everett 
said  of  the  manner  in  which  this  boy  with  no  chance 
acquired  -great  learning :  “  It  is  enough  to  make  one 

who  has  good  opportunities  for  education  hang  his  head 
in  shame.” 

The  barefoot  Christine  Nilsson  in  remote  Sweden  had 
little  chance,  but  she  won  the  admiration  of  the  world 
for  her  wondrous  power  of  song,  combined  with  rare 
womanly  grace. 

“  Let  me  say  in  regard  to  your  adverse  worldly  cir¬ 
cumstances,”  says  Dr.  Talmage  to  young  men,  “that 
you  are  on  a  level  now  with  those  who  are  finally  to 
succeed.  Mark  my  words,  and  think  of  it  thirty  years 
from  now.  You  will  find  that  those  who,  thirty  years 
from  now,  are  the  millionaires  of  this  country,  who  are 
the  orators  of  the  country,  who  are  the  poets  of  the 
country,  who  are  the  strong  merchants  of  the  country, 
vvho  are  the  great  philanthropists  of  the  country,  — • 
mightiest  in  the  church  and  state,  —  are  now  on  a  level 
with  you,  not  an  inch  above  you,  and  in  straightened 
circumstances  now. 


88 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  No  outfit,  no  capital  to  start  with  ?  Young  man, 
go  down  to  the  library  and  get  some  books,  and  read  of 
wbat  wonderful  mechanism  God  gave  you  in  your  hand, 
in  your  foot,  in  your  eye,  in  your  ear,  and  then  ask  some 
doctor  to  take  you  into  the  dissecting-room  and  illus¬ 
trate  to  you  what  you  have  read  about,  and  never  again 
commit  the  blasphemy  of  saying  you  have  no  capital  to 
start  with.  Equipped  ?  Why ,  the  poorest  young  man  it 
equipped  as  only  the  God  of  the  whole  universe  could 
afford  to  equip  him” 

A  newsboy  is  not  a  very  promising  candidate  for  suc¬ 
cess  or  honors  in  any  line  of  life.  A  young  man  can’t 
set  out  in  life  with  much  less  chance  than  when  he 
starts  his  “  daily  ”  for  a  living.  Yet  the  man  who  more 
than  any  other  is  responsible  for  the  industrial  regener¬ 
ation  of  this  continent,  started  in  life  as  a  newsboy  on 
the  Grand  Trunk  Railway.  Thomas  Alva  Edison  was 
then  about  fifteen  years  of  age.  He  had  already  begun 
to  dabble  in  chemistry,  and  had  fitted  up  a  small  itiner¬ 
ant  laboratory.  One  day,  as  he  was  performing  some 
occult  experiment,  the  train  rounded  a  curve,  and  the 
bottle  of  sulphuric  acid  broke.  There  followed  a  series 
of  unearthly  odors  and  unnatural  complications.  The 
conductor,  who  had  suffered  long  and  patiently,  now 
ejected  the  youthful  devotee,  and  in  the  process  of  the 
scientist’s  expulsion  added  a  resounding  box  upon  the 
ear. 

Edison  passed  through  one  dramatic  situation  after 
another  —  always  mastering  it  —  until  he  has  attained 
at  an  early  age  the  scientific  throne  of  the  wcrld.  When 
recently  asked  the  secret  of  his  success,  he  said  he  had 
always  been  a  total  abstainer  and  singularly  moderate 
in  everything  but  work. 

Daniel  Manning,  who  was  President  Cleveland’s  first 
campaign  manager  and  afterwards  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury,  started  out  as  a  newsboy  with  apparently  the 
world  against  him.  So  did  Thurlcw  Weed ;  so  did 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE.  89 

David  B.  Hill.  New  York  seems  to  have  been  prolific 
in  enterprising  newsboys. 

What  nonsense  for  two  uneducated  and  unknown 
youths  who  met  in  a  cheap  boarding-house  in  Boston, 
to  array  themselves  against  an  institution  whose  roots 
were  embedded  in  the  very  constitution  of  our  country, 
and  which  was  upheld  by  scholars,  statesmen,  churches, 
wealth,  and  aristocracy,  without  distinction  of  creed  or 
politics  !  What  chance  had  they  against  the  prejudices 
and  sentiment  of  a  nation  ?  But  these  young  men 
were  fired  by  a  lofty  purpose,  and  they  were  thoroughly 
in  earnest.  One  of  them,  Benjamin  Lundy,  had  already 
started  in  Ohio  a  paper  called  “  The  Genius  of  U niver- 
sal  Liberty,”  and  had  carried  the  entire  edition  home 
on  his  back  from  the  printing-office,  twenty  miles,  every 
month.  He  had  walked  four  hundred  miles  on  his  way 
to  Tennessee  to  increase  his  subscription  list.  He  was 
no  ordinary  young  man. 

With  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  he  started  to  prosecute 
his  work  more  earnestly  in  Baltimore.  The  sight  of 
the  slave-pens  along  the  principal  streets;  of  vessel¬ 
loads  of  unfortunates  torn  from  home  and  family  and 
sent  to  Southern  ports  ;  the  heartrending  scenes  at  the 
auction  blocks,  made  an  impression  on  Garrison  never 
to  be  forgotten  ;  and  the  young  man  whose  mother  was 
too  poor  to  send  him  to  school,  although  she  early 
taught  him  to  hate  oppression,  resolved  to  devote  his 
life  to  secure  the  freedom  of  these  poor  wretches. 

In  the  very  first  issue  of  his  paper,  Garrison  urged  an 
immediate  emancipation,  and  called  down  upon  his 
head  the  wrath  of  the  entire  community.  He  was 
arrested  and  sent  to  jail.  John  G.  Whittier,  a  noble 
Friend  in  the  North,  was  so  touched  at  the  news  that, 
being  too  poor  to  furnish  the  money  himself,  he  wrote 
to  Henry  Clay,  begging  him  to  release  Garrison  by  pay¬ 
ing  the  fine.  After  forty-nine  days  of  imprisonment  he 
was  set  free.  Wendell  Phillips  said  of  him,  “  He  was 


40 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


imprisoned  for  his  opinion  when  he  was  twenty-four. 
He  had  confronted  a  nation  in  the  bloom  of  his  youth  ” 

Garrison  did  not  propose  to  lose  his  time  just  because 
he  was  imprisoned.  While  in  jail,  he  prepared  several 
lectures  ;  but  what  could  he  do  with  them  ?  Churches 
and  halls  were  closed  to  him;  but  he  was  not  to  be 
suppressed.  In  Boston,  with  no  money,  friends,  or  in 
fluence,  in  a  little  upstairs  room,  he  started  the  “  Liber 
ator.”  Bead  the  declaration  of  this  poor  young  man 
with  “  no  chance,”  in  the  very  first  issue :  “  I  will  be  as 
harsh  as  truth,  as  uncompromising  as  justice.  I  am  in 
earnest.  I  will  not  equivocate,  I  will  not  excuse ;  I 
will  not  retreat  a  single  inch,  and  I  will  be  heard.” 
What  audacity  for  a  young  man,  with  the  world  against 
him  ! 

Hon.  BobertY.  Hayne,  of  South  Carolina,  wrote  to 
Otis,  mayor  of  Boston,  that  some  one  had  sent  him  a 
copy  of  the  “Liberator,”  and  asked  him  to  ascertain 
the  name  of  the  publisher.  Otis  replied  that  he  had 
found  a  poor  young  man  printing  “  this  insignificant 
sheet  in  an  obscure  hole,  his  only  auxiliary  a  negro  boy, 
his  supporters  a  few  persons  of  all  colors  and  little 
influence.” 

But  this  poor  young  man,  eating,  sleeping,  and  print¬ 
ing  in  this  “  obscure  hole,”  had  set  the  world  to  thinking, 
and  must  be  suppressed.  The  Vigilance  Association  of 
South  Carolina  offered  a  reward  of  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  for  the  arrest  and  prosecution  of  any  one  de¬ 
tected  circulating  the  “Liberator.”  The  governors  of 
one  or  two  States  set  a  price  on  the  editor’s  head.  The 
legislature  of  Georgia  offered  a  reward  of  five  thousand 
dollars  for  his  arrest  and  conviction. 

The  youth  with  no  chance  had  stirred  up  a  nation. 
Twelve  “  Fanatics  ”  met  one  stormy  night  in  the  base¬ 
ment  of  the  African  church  in  Boston  and  organized 
the  New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society.  The  contest 
grew  bitter.  Prudence  Crandall  admitted  a  few  colored 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


41 

girls  to  her  school  in  Connecticut,  patronized  by 
wealthy  people  residing  in  Boston  and  New  York,  and 
hoodlums  filled  her  well  with  refuse.  Merchants  re¬ 
fused  to  sell  her  anything,  and  a  midnight  mob  threat¬ 
ened  to  destroy  the  schoolhouse  and  lay  violent  hands 
upon  the  teacher.  Garrison  and  his  coadjutors  were 
denounced  everywhere.  A  clergyman  named  Lovejoy 
was  killed  by  a  mob  in  Illinois  for  espousing  the  cause, 
while  defending  his  printing-press,  and  in  the  old 
“  Cradle  of  American  Liberty  ”  the  wealth,  power,  and 
culture  of  Massachusetts  arrayed  itself  against  the 
“  Abolitionists  ”  so  outrageously,  that  a  mere  spectator, 
a  young  lawyer  of  great  promise,  asked  to  be  lifted 
upon  the  high  platform,  and  replied  in  such  a  speech  as 
was  never  before  heard  in  Faneuil  Hall.  “  When  I 
heard  the  gentleman  lay  down  principles  which  place 
the  murderers  of  Lovejoy  at  Alton  side  by  side  with 
Otis  and  Hancock,  with  Quincy  and  Adams,”  said 
Wendell  Phillips,  pointing  to  their  portraits  on  the 
walls,  “  I  thought  those  pictured  lips  would  have  broken 
into  voice  to  rebuke  the  recreant  American,  the  slan¬ 
derer  of  the  dead.  For  the  sentiments  that  he  has 
uttered,  on  soil  consecrated  by  the  prayers  of  the  Puri¬ 
tans  and  the  blood  of  patriots,  the  earth  should  have 
yawned  and  swallowed  him  up.” 

The  whole  nation  was  wrought  to  fever  heat.  Charles 
Sumner  was  stricken  down  in  the  United  States  Sen¬ 
ate  by  a  blow  from  Preston  S.  Brooks,  of  South  Caro¬ 
lina,  for  his  speech  against  the  extension  of  slavery  in 
Kansas.  That  State  came  into  being  amid  the  “  very 
tempest  and  whirlwind  of  passion,”  the  slaveholding 
oligarchy  “  colonizing  voters  ”  with  all  its  might,  while 
from  New  England’s  hills  emigrants  poured  westward 
by  thousands,  singing  Whittier’s  lines  :  — 

“  We  cross  the  prairie  as  of  old 
The  Pilgrims  crossed  the  sea, 

To  make  the  West,  as  the}'  the  East, 

The  homestead  of  the  free  1  ” 


42 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Between  the  Northern  pioneers  and  Southern  chivalry 
the  struggle  was  long  and  fierce  even  in  far  California, 
The  drama  culminated  in  the  shock  of  civil  war. 
When  the  war  was  ended,  and,  after  thirty-five  years  of 
untiring,  heroic  conflict,  Garrison  was  invited  as  the 
nation’s  guest,  by  President  Lincoln,  to  see  the  stars 
and  stripes  unfurled  once  more  above  Fort  Sumter,  ar 
emancipated  slave  delivered  the  address  of  welcome, 
and  his  two  daughters,  no  longer  chattels,  presented 
Garrison  with  a  beautiful  wreath  of  flowers. 

About  this  time  Bichard  Cobden,  another  powerful 
friend  of  the  oppressed,  died  in  London.  John  Bright 
afterwards  unveiled  a  marble  statue  in  Bradford,  Eng¬ 
land,  bearing  in  bold  letters  the  word  “Cobden,”  en¬ 
circled  by  the  inscription :  “  Free  Trade,  Peace  and  Good 
Will  among  Men.” 

Bichard  Cobden’s  father  died  leaving  nine  children 
almost  penniless.  The  boy  earned  his  living  by  watch¬ 
ing  a  neighbor’s  sheep,  but  had  no  chance  to  attend 
school  until  he  was  ten  years  old.  He  was  sent  to  a 
boarding-school,  where  he  was  abused,  half  starved,  and 
allowed  to  write  home  only  once  in  three  months.  At 
fifteen  he  entered  his  uncle’s  store  in  London  as  a  clerk. 
He  learned  French  by  rising  early  and  studying  while 
his  companions  slept.  He  was  soon  sent  out  in  a  gig  as 
a  commercial  traveler. 

He  called  upon  John  Bright  to  enlist  his  aid  in  fight¬ 
ing  the  terrible  “  Corn-Laws  ”  which  were  taking  bread 
from  the  poor  and  giving  it  to  the  rich.  He  found  Mr. 
Bright  in  great  grief,  for  his  wife  was  lying  dead  in  the 
house.  “  There  are  thousands  of  homes  in  England  at 
this  moment,”  said  he,  “  where  wives,  mothers,  and  chil¬ 
dren  are  dying  of  hunger.  Now,  when  the  first  par¬ 
oxysm  of  grief  is  passed,  I  would  advise  you  to  come 
with  me,  and  we  will  never  rest  until  the  Corn-Laws  are 
repealed.”  They  formed  the  “  Anti-Corn-Law  League,” 
which,  aided  by  the  Irish  famine,  —  for  it  was  hunger 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


48 


that  at  last  ate  through  thoL  *  stone  walls  of  protection, 
—  secured  the  repeal  of  the  law  in  1846.  Mr.  Bright 
said:  “ There  is  not  in  Great  Britain  a  poor  man’s  home 
that  has  not  a  bigger,  better,  and  cheaper  loaf  through 
Kichard  Cobden’s  labors.” 

John  Bright  himself  was  the  son  of  a  poor  working 
man,  and  in  those  days  the  doors  of  the  higher  schools 
were  closed  to  such  as  he ;  but  the  great  Quaker  heart 
of  this  handsome,  resolute  youth  was  touched  with  pity 
for  the  millions  of  England’s  and  Ireland’s  poor,  starv¬ 
ing  under  the  “  Corn-Laws.”  Cobden  could  no  longer 
see  the  poor  man’s  bread  stopped  at  the  Custom-House 
and  taxed  for  the  benefit  of  the  landlord  and  farmer, 
and  he  threw  his  whole  soul  into  this  great  reform. 
“  This  is  not  a  party  question,”  said  he,  “  for  men  of  all 
parties  are  united  upon  it.  It  is  a  pantry  question,  —  a 
question  between  the  working  millions  and  the  aris¬ 
tocracy.”  During  the  famine,  which  cut  off  two  mil¬ 
lions  of  Ireland’s  population  in  a  year,  John  Bright  was 
more  powerful  than  all  the  nobility  of  England.  The 
whole  aristocracy  trembled  before  his  invincible  logic, 
his  mighty  eloquence,  and  his  commanding  character. 
Except  possibly  Cobden,  no  other  man  did  so  much  to 
give  the  laborer  a  shorter  day,  a  cheaper  loaf,  an  added 
shilling. 

Over  a  stable  in  London  lived  a  poor  boy  named  Mi¬ 
chael  Faraday,  who  carried  newspapers  about  the  streets 
to  loan  to  customers  for  a  penny  apiece.  He  was  ap^ 
prenticed  for  seven  years  to  a  bookbinder  and  book¬ 
seller.  When  binding  the  Encyclopsedia  Britan nica,  his 
eyes  caught  the  article  on  electricity,  and  he  could  not 
rest  until  he  had  read  it.  He  procured  a  glass  vial,  an 
old  pan,  and  a  few  simple  articles,  and  began  to  experi¬ 
ment.  A  customer  became  interested  in  the  boy,  and 
took  him  to  hear  Sir  Humphry  Davy  lecture  on  chem¬ 
istry.  He  summoned  courage  to  write  the  great  scien¬ 
tist  and  sent  the  notes  he  had  taken  of  his  lecture.  One 


44 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


night,  not  long  after,  just  as  Michael  was  about  to  re* 
tire,  Sir  Humphry  Davy’s  carriage  stopped  at  his 
humble  lodging,  and  a  servant  handed  him  a  written 
invitation  to  call  upon  the  great  lecturer  the  next  morn¬ 
ing.  Michael  could  scarcely  trust  his  eyes  as  he  read 
the  note  from  the  great  Davy.  In  the  morning  he 
called  as  requested,  and  was  engaged  to  clean  instra- 
ments  and  take  them  to  and  from  the  lecture-room. 
He  watched  eagerly  every  movement  of  Davy,  as  he 
developed  his  safety-lamp  and  experimented  with  dan¬ 
gerous  explosives,  with  a  glass  mask  over  his  face. 
Michael  studied  and  experimented,  too,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  this  poor  boy  with  no  chance  was  invited  to 
lecture  before  the  great  philosophical  society. 

He  was  appointed  professor  at  the  Royal  Academy 
at  Woolwich,  and  became  the  wonder  of  the  age  in 
science.  Tyndall  said  of  him,  “He  is  the  greatest 
experimental  philosopher  the  world  has  ever  seen.” 
When  Sir  Humphry  Davy  was  asked  what  was  his 
greatest  discovery,  he  replied,  “  Michael  Faraday.” 

“  What  has  been  done  can  be  done  again,”  said  the 
boy  with  no  chance  who  became  Lord  Beaconsfield, 
England’s  great  Prime  Minister.  “  I  am  not  a  slave,  I 
am  not  a  captive,  and  by  energy  I  can  overcome  greater 
obstacles.”  Jewish  blood  flowed  in  his  veins  and  every¬ 
thing  seemed  against  him,  but  he  remembered  the  ex¬ 
ample  of  Joseph,  who  became  Prime  Minister  of  Egypt 
four  thousand  years  before,  and  that  of  Daniel,  who  was 
Prime  Minister  to  the  greatest  despot  of  the  world  five 
centuries  before  the  birth  of  Christ.  He  pushed  his 
way  up  through  the  lower  classes,  up  through  the  mid¬ 
dle  classes,  up  through  the  upper  classes,  until  he  stood 
a  master,  self-poised  upon  the  topmost  round  of  polit¬ 
ical  and  social  power.  Rebuffed,  scorned,  ridiculed, 
hissed  down  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  simply  said, 
“The  time  will  come  when  you  will  hear  me.”  The 
time  did  come,  and  the  boy  with  no  chance  but  a  deter- 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE .  45 

mined  will,  swayed  the  sceptre  of  England  for  a  quarter 
of  a  century. 

Henry  Clay,  the  “  mill-boy  of  the  slashes,”  was  one 
of  seven  children  of  a  widow  too  poor  to  send  him  to 
any  but  a  common  country  school,  where  he  was  drilled 
only  in  the  “three  K’s.”  But  he  used  every  spare  mo* 
ment  to  study  without  a  teacher,  and  in  after  years  he 
was  a  king  among  self-made  men.  The  boy  who  had 
learned  to  speak  in  a  barn,  with  only  a  cow  and  a  horse 
for  an  audience,  became  one  of  the  greatest  of  American 
orators  and  statesmen. 

See  Kepler  struggling  with  poverty  and  hardship,  his 
books  burned  in  public  by  order  of  the  state,  his  library 
locked  up  by  the  Jesuits,  and  himself  exiled  by  public 
clamor.  For  seventeen  years  he  works  calmly  upon 
the  demonstration  of  the  great  principles,  that  planets 
revolve  in  ellipses,  with  the  sun  at  one  focus  ;  that  a 
line  connecting  the  centre  of  the  earth  with  the  centre 
of  the  sun  passes  over  equal  spaces  in  equal  times, 
and  that  the  squares  of  the  times  of  revolution  of  the 
planets  about  the  sun  are  proportional  to  the  cubes  of 
their  mean  distances  from  the  sun.  This  boy  with  no 
chance  became  one  of  the  world’s  greatest  astronomers. 

“When  1  found  that  I  was  black,”  said  Alexander 
Dumas,  “  I  resolved  to  live  as  if  I  were  white,  and  so 
force  men  to  look  below  my  skin.” 

How  slender  seemed  the  chance  of  James  Sharpies, 
the  celebrated  blacksmith  artist  of  England !  He  was 
very  poor,  but  he  often  rose  at  three  o’clock  to  copy 
books  he  could  not  buy.  He  would  walk  eighteen  miles 
to  Manchester  and  back  after  a  hard  day’s  work,  to  buy 
a  shilling’s  worth  of  artist’s  materials.  He  would  ask 
for  the  heaviest  work  in  the  blacksmith  shop,  because 
it  took  a  longer  time  to  heat  at  the  forge,  and  he  could 
thus  havfe  many  spare  minutes  to  study  the  precious 
book,  which  he  propped  up  against  the  chimney.  He 
was  a  great  miser  of  spare  moments  and  used  every  one 


46 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


as  though  he  might  never  see  another.  He  devoted  his 
leisure  hours  for  live  years  to  that  wonderful  produc¬ 
tion,  “The  Forge,”  copies  of  which  are  to  be  seen  in 
many  a  home. 

What  chance  had  Galileo  to  win  renown  in  physics 
or  astronomy,  when  his  parents  compelled  him  to  go  to 
a  medical  school  ?  Yet  while  Venice  slept,  he  stood  in 
the  tower  of  St.  Mark’s  Cathedral  and  discovered  the 
satellites  of  Jupiter  and  the  phases  of  Venus,  through  a 
telescope  made  with  his  own  hands,  because  he  was  too 
poor  to  buy  one.  When  compelled  on  bended  knee  to 
publicly  renounce  his  heretical  doctrine  that  the  earth 
moves  around  the  sun,  all  the  terrors  of  the  Inquisition 
could  not  keep  this  feeble  man  of  threescore  years  and 
ten,  from  muttering  to  himself,  “Yet  it  does  move.” 
When  thrown  into  prison,  so  great  was  his  eagerness 
for  scientific  research  that  he  proved  by  a  straw  in  his 
cell  that  a  hollow  tube  is  relatively  much  stronger  than 
a  solid  rod  of  the  same  size.  Even  when  totally  blind, 
he  kept  constantly  at  work. 

Imagine  the  surprise  of  the  Royal  Society  of  England 
when  the  poor,  unknown  Herschel  sent  in  the  report  of 
his  discovery  of  the  star  Georgium  Sidus,  its  orbit  and 
rate  of  motion  ;  and  of  the  rings  and  satellites  of  Sat¬ 
urn.  The  boy  with  no  chance,  who  had  played  the 
oboe  for  his  meals,  had  with  his  own  hands  made  the 
telescope  through  which  he  discovered  facts  unknown 
to  the  best  equipped  astronomers  of  his  day.  He  had 
ground  two  hundred  specula  before  he  could  get  one 
perfect. 

George  Stephenson  was  one  of  eight  children  whose 
parents  were  so  poor  that  all  lived  in  a  single  room. 
George  had  to  watch  cows  for  a  neighbor,  but  he  man¬ 
aged  to  get  time  to  make  engines  of  clay,  with  hemlock 
sticks  for  pipes.  At  seventeen  he  had  charge  of  an 
engine,  with  his  father  for  fireman.  He  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  but  the  engine  was  his  teacher,  and  he 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


47 


a  faithful  student.  While  the  other  hands  were  play¬ 
ing  games  or  loafing  in  liquor  shops  during  the  holi¬ 
days,  George  was  taking  his  machine  to  pieces,  cleaning 
it,  studying  it,  and  making  experiments  in  engines. 
When  he  had  become  famous  as  a  great  inventor  of 
improvements  in  engines,  those  who  had  loafed  and 
played  called  him  lucky. 

The  famous  English  artist,  Martin,  went  to  the 
baker’s  with  his  last  shilling,  to  buy  a  loaf  of  bread. 
The  baker  snatched  the  loaf  from  his  hands  and  told 
him  the  shilling  was  counterfeit.  Martin  returned  to 
his  home,  and  finding  a  dry  crust  in  his  trunk,  went 
about  his  work  with  that  determination  which  knows 
no  defeat. 

Without  a  charm  of  face  or  figure,  Charlotte  Cush¬ 
man  resolved  to  place  herself  in  the  front  rank* as  an 
actress,  even  in  such  characters  as  Kosalind  and  Queen 
Katherine.  The  star  actress  was  unable  to  perform, 
and  Miss  Cushman,  her  understudy,  took  her  place. 
That  night  she  held  her  audience  with  such  grasp  of 
intellect  and  iron  will  that  it  forgot  the  absence  of 
mere  dimpled  feminine  grace.  Although  poor,  friend¬ 
less,  and  unknown  before,  when  the  curtain  fell  upon 
her  first  performance  at  the  London  theatre,  her  repu¬ 
tation  was  made.  In  after  years,  when  physicians  told 
her  that  she  had  a  terrible,  incurable  disease,  she 
flinched  not  a  particle,  but  quietly  said,  “  I  have 
learned  to  live  with  my  trouble.” 

A  poor  colored  woman  in  a  log  cabin  in  the  South 
had  three  boys,  but  could  afford  only  one  pair  of  trou¬ 
sers  for  the  three.  She  was  so  anxious  to  give  them 
an  education,  that  she  sent  them  to  school  by  turns. 
The  teacher,  a  Northern  girl,  noticed  that  each  boy 
came  to  school  only  one  day  out  of  three,  and  that  all 
wore  the  same  pantaloons.  The  poor  mother  educated 
her  boys  as  best  she  could.  One  became  a  professor  in 
a  Southern  college,  another  a  physician,  and  the  third  a 


48 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


clergyman.  What  a  lesson  for  hoys  who  plead  “no 
chance  ”  as  an  excuse  for  wasted  lives  ! 

“I  want  a  Greek  Testament,”  said  John  Brown  of 
Carpow,  Scotland,  to  a  bookseller  at  St.  Andrew’s.  The 
dealer  stared  at  the  shepherd  boy,  rough  and  unkempt 
from  a  night  walk  of  twenty  miles  to  buy  a  book,  and 
had  begun  to  make  sport  of  so  strange  a  request  f  i 
a  small  country  lad,  when  a  college  professor  ent  •  : 
« Now,”  said  the  professor,  after  learning  what 
wanted,  “if  you  will  read  a  verse  of  that  TesJ  .  m 
and  translate  it  to  me,  you  shall  have  the  b  ’  r 
nothing.”  The  boy  translated  several  verses  w 
and  marched  proudly  home  with  his  prize, 
mastered  both  Greek  and  Latin  while  tending 
and  laid  the  foundation  for  the  ripe  scholar  q-  ■■  ,r 
which  he  became  noted. 

Sam  Cunard,  the  whittling  Scotch  lad  of  Glasgow, 
wrought  out  many  odd  inventions  with  brain  and  jack¬ 
knife,  but  they  brought  neither  honor  nor  profit  until 
he  was  consulted  by  Burns  &  Mclvor,  who  wished  to 
increase  their  facilities  for  carrying  foreign  mails.  The 
model  of  a  steamship  which  Sam  whittled  out  for  them 
was  carefully  copied  for  the  first  vessel  of  the  great 
Cunard  Line,  and  became  the  standard  type  for  all  the 
magnificent  ships  since  constructed  by  the  firm.  When 
Samuel  Cunard  was  knighted,  he  did  not  forget  that 
he  owed  his  honors  and  his  wealth  to  conscientious 
whittling. 

The  New  Testament  and  the  speller  were  Cornelius 
Vanderbilt’s  only  books  at  school,  but  he  learned  to 
read,  write,  and  cipher  a  little.  He  wished  to  buy  a 
boat,  but  had  no  money.  To  discourage  him  from  fol¬ 
lowing  the  sea,  his  mother  told  him  if  he  would  plough, 
harrow,  and  plant  with  corn,  before  the  twenty-seventh 
day  of  the  month,  ten  acres  of  rough,  hard,  stony  land, 
the  worst  on  his  father’s  farm,  she  would  lend  him  the 
amount  he  wished.  Before  the  appointed  time  the  work 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE . 


49 


was  done,  and  well  done.  On  liis  seventeenth  birthday 
Cornelius  bought  the  boat,  but  on  his  way  home  it 
struck  a  sunken  wreck  and  sank  just  as  he  reached 
shallow  water. 

But  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  was  not  the  boy  to  give 
up.  He  at  once  began  again.  In  three  years  he  saved 
three  thousand  dollars.  He  often  worked  all  night, 
and  soon  had  far  the  largest  patronage  of  any  boatman 
in  the  harbor.  During  the  War  of  1812  he  was  awarded 
the  Government  contract  to  carry  provisions  to  the  mil¬ 
itary  stations  near  the  metropolis.  He  fulfilled  this 
contract  by  night,  that  he  might  run  his  ferry  boat  by 
day  between  New  York  and  Brooklyn. 

The  boy  who  gave  his  parents  all  his  day  earnings 
and  half  of  what  he  got  at  night,  was  worth  thirty 
thousand  dollars  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  and  when  he 
died  at  an  advanced  age,  he  left  to  his  thirteen  children 
one  of  the  largest  fortunes  in  America. 

Lord  Eldon  might  well  have  pleaded  “  no  chance  ” 
when  a  boy,  for  he  was  too  poor  to  go  to  school  or  even 
to  buy  books.  But  no  ;  he  had  grit  and  determination, 
and  was  bound  to  make  his  way  in  the  world.  He  rose 
at  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  and  copied  law  books 
which  he  borrowed,  the  voluminous  “  Coke  upon  Little¬ 
ton  ”  among  others.  He  was  so  eager  to  study,  that 
sometimes  he  would  keep  it  up  until  his  brain  refused 
to  work,  when  he  would  tie  a  wet  towel  about  his  head, 
to  enable  him  to  keep  awake  and  to  study.  His  first 
year’s  practice  brought  him  but  nine  shillings,  yet  he 
was  bound  not  to  give  up.  The  Master  of  Bolls  once 
decided  a  law  point  against  him  ;  but  on  his  appeal, 
the  House  of  Lords  reversed  the  decision. 

When  Eldon  was  leaving  the  chamber,  the  Solicitor 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  “  Young  man, 
your  bread  and  butter’s  cut  for  life.”  The  boy  with 
“  no  chance  ”  became  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  and 
one  of  the  greatest  lawyers  of  his  age. 


50 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


Stephen  Girard  had  “  no  chance.”  He  left  his  home 
in  France  when  ten  years  old,  and  came  to  America  as 
a  cabin  boy.  His  great  ambition  was  to  get  on  and  to 
succeed  at  any  cost.  There  was  no  work,  however  hard 
and  disagreeable,  that  he  would  not  undertake.  Midas 
like,  he  turned  to  gold  everything  he  touched,  and  be¬ 
came  one  of  the  wealthiest  merchants  of  Philadelphia. 
His  abnormal  love  of  money  cannot  be  commended,  but 
his  thoroughness  in  all  he  did,  his  public  spirit  at  times 
of  national  need,  and  willingness  to  risk  his  life  to  save 
strangers  sick  with  the  deadly  yellow  fever,  are  traits 
of  character  well  worthy  of  imitation. 

John  Wanamaker  walked  four  miles  to  Philadelphia 
every  day,  and  worked  in  a  bookstore  for  one  dollar  and 
twenty -five  cents  a  week.  He  next  worked  in  a  cloth¬ 
ing  store  at  an  advance  of  twenty-five  cents  a  week. 
From  this  he  went  up  and  up  until  now  he  counts  his 
wealth  by  millions.  He  was  appointed  Postmaster- 
General  by  President  Harrison  in  1888,  and  in  that 
capacity  showed  great  executive  ability.  Give  a  boy  a 
purpose  and  determination,  no  matter  how  poor  his 
chance,  and  you  will  hear  from  him. 

The  men  who  manipulate  to-day  the  levers  that  move 
the  world  were  nearly  all  poor  boys. 

Prejudice  against  her  race  and  sex  did  not  deter  the 
colored  girl,  Edmonia  Lewis,  from  struggling  upward  to 
honor  and  fame  as  a  sculptor. 

Fred  Douglass  started  in  life  with  less  than  nothing, 
for  he  did  not  own  his  own  body,  and  he  was  pledged 
before  his  birth  to  pay  his  master’s  debts.  To  reach 
the  starting-point  of  the  poorest  white  boy,  he  had  to 
climb  as  far  as  the  distance  which  the  latter  must  ascend 
if  he  would  become  President  of  the  United  States.  He 
saw  his  mother  but  two  or  three  times,  and  then  in  the 
night,  when  she  would  walk  twelve  miles  to  be  with 
him  an  hour,  returning  in  time  to  go  into  the  field  at 
dawn.  He  had  no  chance  to  study,  for  he  had  no  teacher, 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE . 


51 


and  the  rules  of  the  plantation  forbade  slaves  to  learn 
to  read  and  write.  But  somehow,  unnoticed  by  his 
master,  he  managed  to  learn  the  alphabet  from  scraps 
of  paper  and  patent  medicine  almanacs,  and  no  limits 
could  then  be  placed  to  his  career.  He  put  to  shame 
thousands  of  white  boys.  He  fled  from  slavery  at  twen¬ 
ty-one,  went  North  and  worked  as  a  stevedore  in  New 
York  and  New  Bedford.  At  Nantucket  he  was  given 
an  opportunity  to  speak  in  an  anti-slavery  meeting,  and 
made  so  favorable  an  impression  that  he  was  made  agent 
of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society  of  Massachusetts.  While 
traveling  from  place  to  place  to  lecture,  he  would  study 
with  all  his  might.  He  was  sent  to  Europe  to  lecture, 
and  won  the  friendship  of  several  Englishmen,  who 
gave  him  $750,  with  which  he  purchased  his  freedom. 
He  edited  a  paper  in  Bochester,  N.  Y.,  and  afterwards 
conducted  the  “ New  Era”  in  Washington.  For  several 
years  he  was  Marshal  of  the  District  of  Columbia.  To¬ 
day  he  is  the  first  colored  man  in  the  United  States,  the 
peer  of  any  man  in  the  country. 

Henry  Dixey,  the  well-known  actor,  began  his  career 
upon  the  stage  as  the  hind  legs  of  a  cow. 

P.  T.  Barnum  rode  a  horse  for  ten  cents  a  day. 
George  W.  Childs  worked  as  an  errand  boy  for  four  dol¬ 
lars  a  month ;  and  from  similar  small  beginnings  have 
grown  most  of  the  large  fortunes  on  record. 

Gideon  Lee  could  not  even  get  shoes  to  wear  in  win¬ 
ter,  when  a  boy,  but  he  went  to  work  barefoot  in  the 
snow.  He  made  a  bargain  with  himself  to  work  sixteen 
hours  a  day.  He  fulfilled  it  to  the  letter,  and  when 
from  interruption  he  lost  time,  he  robbed  himself  of 
sleep  to  make  it  up.  He  became  a  wealthy  merchant  of 
New  York,  mayor  of  the  city,  and  a  member  of  Congress. 

Andrew  Johnson,  apprenticed  to  a  tailor  at  ten  years 
of  age  by  his  widowed  mother,  was  never  able  to  attend 
school. 

It  was  a  boy  born  in  a  log-cabin,  without  schooling, 


52 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


or  books,  or  teacher,  or  ordinary  opportunities,  who  won 
the  admiration  of  mankind  by  his  homely  practical  wis¬ 
dom  while  President  during  our  Civil  War,  and  who 
emancipated  four  million  slaves. 

.Behold  this  long,  lank,  awkward  youth,  felling  trees 
on  the  little  claim,  building  his  homely  log-cabin,  with¬ 
out  floor  or  windows,  teaching  himself  arithmetic  and 
grammar  in  the  evening  by  the  light  of  the  fireplace. 
In  his  eagerness  to  know  the  contents  of  Blackstone’s 
Commentaries,  he  walked  forty-four  miles  to  procure 
the  precious  volumes,  and  read  one  hundred  pages 
while  returning.  Abraham  Lincoln  inherited  no  oppor¬ 
tunities,  and  acquired  nothing  by  luck.  His  good  for¬ 
tune  consisted  of  untiring  perseverance  and  a  right 
heart. 

In  another  log- cabin,  in  the  backwoods  of  Ohio,  a 
poor  widow  is  holding  a  boy  eighteen  months  old,  and 
wondering  if  she  will  be  able  to  keep  the  wolf  from  her 
little  ones.  The  boy  grows,  and  in  a  few  years  we  find 
him  chopping  wood  and  tilling  the  little  clearing  in  the 
forest,  to  help  his  mother.  Every  spare  hour  is  spent 
in  studying  the  books  he  has  borrowed,  but  cannot  buy. 
At  sixteen  he  gladly  accepts  a  chance  to  drive  mules 
on  a  canal  towpath.  Soon  he  applies  for  a  chance  to 
sweep  floors  and  ring  the  bell  of  an  academy,  to  pay  his 
way  while  studying  there. 

His  first  term  at  Geauga  Seminary  cost  him  but  sev¬ 
enteen  dollars.  When  he  returned  the  next  term  he 
had  but  a  sixpence  in  his  pocket,  and  this  he  put  into 
the  contribution  box  at  church  the  next  day.  He  en¬ 
gaged  board,  washing,  fuel,  and  light  of  a  carpenter  at 
one  dollar  and  six  cents  a  week,  with  the  privilege  of 
working  nights  and  Saturdays  all  the  time  he  could 
spare.  He  had  arrived  on  a  Saturda}r  and  planed  fifty- 
one  boards  that  day,  for  which  he  received  one  dollar 
and  two  cents.  When  the  term  closed,  he  had  paid  all 
expenses  and  had  three  dollars  over.  The  following 


BOYS  WITH  NO  CHANCE. 


53 


winter  he  taught  school  at  twelve  dollars  a  month  and 
“  board  around.”  In  the  spring  he  had  forty-eight  dol¬ 
lars,  and  when  he  returned  to  school  he  boarded  him¬ 
self  at  an  expense  of  thirty-one  cents  a  week. 

Soon  we  find  him  in  Williams  College,  where  in  two 
years  he  is  graduated  with  honors.  He  reaches  the 
State  Senate  at  twenty-six  and  Congress  at  thirty-three. 
Twenty-seven  years  from  the  time  he  applied  for  a 
chance  to  ring  the  bell  at  Hiram  College,  James  A.  Gar¬ 
field  became  President  of  the  United  States.  The  in¬ 
spiration  of  such  an  example  is  worth  more  to  the  young 
man  of  America  than  all  the  wealth  of  the  Astors,  the 
Vanderbilts,  and  the  Goulds. 

Among  the  world’s  greatest  heroes  and  benefactors 
are  many  others  whose  cradles  were  rocked  by  want  in 
lowly  cottages,  and  who  buffeted  the  billows  of  fate 
without  dependence,  save  upon  the  mercy  of  God  and 
their  own  energies. 

“  The  little  gray  cabin  appears  to  be  the  birthplace  of 
all  your  great  men,”  said  an  English  author  who  had 
been  looking  over  a  book  of  biographies  of  eminent 
Americans. 

With  five  chances  on  each  hand  and  one  univavering 
aim,  no  boy,  however  poor,  need  despair.  There  is 
bread  and  success  for  every  youth  under  the  American 
flag,  who  has  energy  and  ability  to  seize  his  opportunity . 
It  matters  not  whether  the  boy  is  born  in  a  log-cabin  or 
in  a  mansion ;  if  he  is  dominated  by  a  resolute  purpose, 
and  upholds  himself,  neither  men  nor  demons  can  keep 
him  down. 


The  rich  man’s  son  inherits  lands, 

And  piles  of  brick  and  stone  and  gold, 
And  he  inherits  soft  white  hands, 

And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dare  he  wear  a  garment  old: 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 


54 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


The  rich  man’s  son  inherits  cares  ; 

The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 

A  breath  may  burst  his  bubble-shares  ; 

Then,  soft  white  hands  could  hardly  earn 
A  living  that  would  serve  his  turn. 

What  doth  the  poor  man’s  son  inherit? 

Stout  muscles,  and  a  sinewy  heart, 

A  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit ! 

King  of  two  hands,  he  does  his  part 
In  every  useful  toil  and  art : 

A  heritage  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

Lowkll, 


i 


CHAPTER  IIL 


AN  IRON  WILL. 

The  truest  wisdom  is  a  resolute  determination.  —  Napoleon  I. 

He  wants  wit,  that  wants  resolved  will.  —  Shakespeare. 

When  a  firm  decisive  spirit  is  recognized,  it  is  curious  to  see  how  the 
space  clears  around  a  man  and  leaves  him  room  and  freedom. — John 
Foster. 

A  strong,  defiant  purpose  is  many-handed,  and  lays  hold  of  whatever  is 
near  that  can  serve  it;  it  has  a  magnetic  power  that  draws  to  itself  what¬ 
ever  is  kindred.  —  T.  T.  Munger. 

People  do  not  lack  strength  ;  they  lack  will.  —  Victor  Hugo. 

He  who  has  resolved  to  conquer  or  die  is  seldom  conquered  ;  such  noble 
despair  perishes  with  difficulty.  —  Corneille. 

Every  man  stamps  his  own  value  upon  himself,  and  we  are  great  or  little 
according  to  our  own  will.  —  Samuel  Smiles. 

The  saddest  failures  in  life  are  those  that  come  from  not  putting  forth  of 
the  power  and  will  to  succeed.  —  Whipple. 

As  men  in  a  crowd  instinctively  make  room  for  one  who  would  force  his 
way  through  it,  so  mankind  makes  way  for  one  who  rushes  toward  an  ob¬ 
ject  beyond  them.  —  Dwight. 

In  idle  wishes  fools  supinely  stay  ; 

Be  there  a  will,  and  wisdom  finds  a  way. 

Crabbe. 

“  I  can’t  !  it  is  impossible !  ”  said  a  lieutenant  to 
Alexander,  after  failing  to  take  a  rock-crested  fortress. 
“  Begone  !  ”  thundered  the  great  Macedonian ;  “  there 
is  nothing  impossible  to  him  who  will  try ;  ”  and  at  the 
head  of  a  phalanx  he  swept  the  foe  from  the  strong¬ 
hold. 

“Yon  can  only  half  will,”  Suwarrow  would  say  to 
people  who  failed.  He  preached  willing  as  a  system. 
“I  don’t  know,”  “ I  can’t,”  and  “  impossible  ”  he  would 
not  listen  to.  “  Learn !  ”  “  Do  !  ”  “  Try  !  ”  he  would 

exclaim. 

Napoleon  in  Egypt  visited  those  sick  with  the  plague* 


56 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


to  show  that  a  man  who  is  never  afraid  can  vanquish  ; 
that  scourge.  A  will  power  like  this  is  a  strong  tonic 
to  the  body,  and  it  will  stimulate  to  almost  superhuman 
undertakings.  Such  a  will  has  taken  many  men  from 
apparent  death-beds,  and  enabled  them  to  perform  worn 
derful  deeds  of  valor. 

Aaron  Burr  was  dangerously  sick  when  he  joined 
Arnold  in  leading  the  expedition  against  Canada.  Gen¬ 
eral  Wolfe,  sick  with  fever,  led  his  troops  up  the  heights 
of  Abraham,  defeated  Montcalm,  and  compelled  impreg¬ 
nable  Quebec  to  surrender.  But  five  days  before,  he 
wrote  home  to  England :  “  My  constitution  is  entirely 
ruined,  and  without  the  consolation  of  having  rendered 
any  considerable  service  to  the  State,  or  without  pros¬ 
pects  of  it.” 

When  told  by  his  physicians  that  he  must  die,  Doug¬ 
las  J errold  said,  “  And  leave  a  family  of  helpless  chil¬ 
dren  ?  I  won’t  die.”  He  kept  his  word,  and  lived  for 
years. 

After  a  sickness  in  which  he  lay  a  long  time  at  death’s 
door,  Seneca  said :  “  The  thought  of  my  father,  who 
could  not  have  sustained  such  a  blow  as  my  death, 
restrained  me,  and  I  commanded  myself  to  live.” 

Professor  George  Wilson,  of  Edinburgh  University, 
was  so  fragile  that  no  one  thought  he  ever  could  amount 
to  much ;  but  he  became  a  noted  scholar  in  spite  of 
discouragements  which  would  have  daunted  most  men 
of  the  strongest  constitutions.  Disaster,  amputation 
of  one  foot,  consumption,  frightful  hemorrhages, — no¬ 
thing  could  shake  his  imperious  will.  Death  itself 
seemed  to  stand  aghast  before  that  mighty  resolution, 
hesitating  to  take  possession  of  the  body  after  all  else 
had  fled. 

At  fifty-five  years  of  age,  Sir  Walter  Scott  owed  more 
than  six  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  determined 
that  every  dollar  should  be  paid.  This  iron  resolution 
gave  confidence  and  inspiration  to  the  other  faculties 


AN  IRON  WILL. 


57 


and  functions  of  the  body  and  brain.  Every  nerve  and 
fibre  said,  “  The  debt  must  be  paid ;  ”  every  drop  of 
blood  caught  the  inspiration  and  rushed  to  the  brain  to 
add  its  weight  of  force  to  the  power  which  wielded  the 
pen.  And  the  debt  was  paid.  In  his  diary  he  wrote 
“  I  have  suffered  terribly  and  often  wished  that  I  could 
lie  down  and  sleep  without  waking.  But  I  will  fight  it 
out  if  I  can.”  His  imperious  will  worked  on  and  on 
after  it  seemed  that  every  other  faculty  had  abandoned 
his  mind. 

“  Is  there  one  whom  difficulties  dishearten  ?  ”  asked 
John  Hunter.  “He  will  do  little.  Is  there  one  who 
will  conquer  ?  That  kind  of  a  man  never  fails.” 

“  Six  o’clock  a.  m.  —  I,  Edward  Irving,  promise,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  to  have  mastered  all  the  words  in 
alpha  and  beta  before  eight  o’clock.”  The  young  man 
had  written  this  on  his  Greek  lexicon.  He  added  later : 
“  Eight  o’clock  a.  m.  —  I,  Edward  Irving,  by  the  grace 

of  God.  have  done  it.” 

/ 

“Nothing  is  impossible  to  the  man  who  can  will,” 
said  Mirabeau.  “  Is  that  necessary  ?  then  that  shall  be. 
This  is  the  only  law  of  success.” 

“We  have  a  half  belief,”  said  Emerson,  “that  the 
person  is  possible  who  can  counterpoise  all  other  per¬ 
sons.  We  believe  that  there  may  be  a  man  who  is  a 
match  for  events ,  —  one  who  never  found  his  match,  — ■ 
against  whom  other  men  being  dashed  are  broken,  — 
one  who  can  give  you  any  odds  and  beat  you.” 

“  There  are  three  kinds  of  people  in  the  world,”  says 
a  writer  in  the  “  Eclectic  Magazine,”  “  the  wills,  the 
won’ts,  and  the  can’ts.  The  first  accomplish  everything  j 
the  second  oppose  everything ;  the  third  fail  in  every¬ 
thing.” 

“There  is  so  much  power  in  faith,”  says  Bulwer, 
“  even  when  faith  is  applied  but  to  things  human  and 
earthly,  that  let  a  man  but  be  firmly  persuaded  that  he 
is  born  to  do  some  da3^}  what  at  the  moment  seems  im- 


58  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

possible,  and  it  is  fifty  to  one  but  what  be  does  it  before 
he  dies.” 

What  can  you  do  with  a  man  who  has  an  invincible 
purpose  in  him;  who  never  knows  when  he  is  beaten; 
and  who,  when  his  legs  are  shot  off,  will  fight  on  the 
stumps  ?  Difficulties  and  opposition  do  not  daunt  him. 
He  thrives  upon  persecution ;  it  only  stimulates  him 
to  more  determined  endeavor.  Give  a  man  the  alpha¬ 
bet  and  an  iron  will,  and  who  shall  place  bounds  to 
his  achievements  ?  Imprison  a  Galileo  for  his  dis¬ 
coveries  in  science,  and  he  will  experiment  with  the 
straw  in  his  cell.  Deprive  Euler  of  his  eyesight,  and 
he  but  studies  harder  upon  mental  problems,  thus  de¬ 
veloping  marvelous  powers  of  mathematical  calcula¬ 
tion.  Lock  up  the  poor  Bedford  tinker  in  jail,  and  he 
will  write  the  finest  allegory  in  the  world,  or  will  leave 
his  imperishable  thoughts  upon  the  walls  of  his  cell. 
Burn  the  body  of  Wy cliff e  and  throw  the  ashes  into  the 
Severn  ;  but  they  will  be  swept  to  the  ocean,  which  will 
carry  them,  permeated  with  his  principles,  to  all  lands. 
The  ivorld  always  listens  to  a  man  with  a  will  in  him. 
You  might  as  well  snub  the  sun  as  such  men  as  Bis¬ 
marck  and  Grant. 

The  shores  of  fortune,  as  Foster  says,  are  covered 
with  the  stranded  wrecks  of  men  of  brilliant  ability, 
but  who  have  wanted  courage,  faith,  and  decision,  and 
have  therefore  perished  in  sight  of  more  resolute  but 
less  capable  adventurers,  who  succeeded  in  making  port. 
Hundreds  of  men  go  to  their  graves  in  obscurity,  who 
have  been  obscure  only  because  they  lacked  the  pluck 
to  make  a  first  effort ;  and  who,  could  they  only  have 
resolved  to  begin,  would  have  astonished  the  world  by 
their  achievements  and  successes. 

“Why  not  try  for  one  of  the  prizes  offered  by  the 
London  Society  of  Arts  ?  ”  asked  Mrs.  Ross  of  her  son 
William,  then  not  twelve  years  old.  “  I  will  try,”  was 
his  reply,  and  his  painting  of  the  “Death  of  Wat 


AN  IRON  WILL. 


59 


Tyler”  won  the  first  prize.  In  after  years  he  became 
miniature  painter  to  Queen  Victoria,  and  was  knighted. 

Quentin  Matsys  despaired  of  becoming  a  painter, 
although  desperately  in  love  with  his  master’s  daughter ; 
but  when  told  that  he  could  not  marry  her  unless  he 
produced  a  picture  of  merit,  he  went  to  work  with  a 
will  which  knows  no  defeat,  and  painted  the  “  Misers,” 
one  of  the  masterpieces  of  art.  It  is  such  intensity  of 
purpose  that  accomplishes  the  “  impossible ” 

Balzac’s  father  tried  to  discourage  his  son  from  the 
pursuit  of  literature.  “  Do  you  know,”  said  he,  “  that 
in  literature  a  man  must  be  either  a  king  or  a  beggar  ?  ” 
“  Very  well,”  replied  the  boy,  “  I  will  be  a  king”  His 
parents  left  him  to  his  fate  in  a  garret.  For  ten  years 
he  fought  terrible  battles  with  hardship  and  poverty, 
but  won  a  great  victory  at  last. 

Who  could  look  into  the  pale,  emaciated  face  of  Rufus 
Choate  without  seeing  the  mighty  conflict  raging  be. 
tween  the  mind  and  the  body,  or  realizing  that  death 
was  held  at  bay  by  an  unconquerable  will  ?  When  a 
friend  remonstrated  with  him  for  injuring  his  constitu¬ 
tion,  he  replied,  “  Good  heavens !  my  constitution  was 
gone  long  ago,  and  I  am  living  on  the  by-laws.”  A 
parallel  example  is  that  of  William  M.  Evarts.  For 
many  years  it  has  seemed  as  though  life  has  been  held 
in  his  emaciated  body  solely  by  the  exercise  of  his 
indomitable  will-power.  Robert  Hall  made  a  miser¬ 
able  failure  of  his  first  sermon,  and  cried  like  a  child 
in  the  pulpit.  The  second  sermon  was  worse  yet,  but 
perseverance  finally  made  him  the  great  pulpit  orator 
of  England. 

A  young  French  officer  used  to  pace  his  room,  ex- 
claiming,  “  I  will  be  Marshal  of  France  and  a  great 
general.”  He  became  a  great  commander,  and  died  a 
Marshal  of  France. 

When  asked  why  he  repaired  a  magistrate’s  bench 
with  so  unusual  care,  a  carpenter  replied,  “  Because  I 


60 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


wish  to  make  it  easy  against  the  time  when  I  come  to 
sit  on  it  myself.”  In  a  few  years  he  did  sit  as  a  magis¬ 
trate  on  that  bench. 

Some  one  told  the  elder  Pitt  that  a  certain  project 
was  impossible.  “  Impossible  ?  ”  said  he  ;  “  I  trample 
upon  impossibilities.”  His  power  in  Parliament  seemed 
more  than  mortal :  his  royal  will  overwhelmed  that  of 
the  proudest  peers. 

One  secret  of  England’s  great  power  over  her  cola 
nies  and  those  of  other  nations  has  been  her  indomi¬ 
table  will ;  her  grasp  is  like  that  of  Destiny.  But  she 
does  not  always  remember  that  her  children  are  of  the 
same  blood,  or  she  would  have  hesitated  to  arouse  the 
spirit  voiced  by  Patrick  Henry :  “  Is  life  so  dear  or 
peace  so  sweet  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains 
and  slavery  ?  Eorbid  it,  Almighty  God !  I  know  not 
what  course  others  may  take  ;  but,  as  for  me,  give  me 
liberty  or  give  me  death.”  Animated  by  such  a  spirit, 
the  American  colonies  could  not  be  conquered,  as  Chat¬ 
ham,  himself  a  man  of  iron  determination,  clearly 
understood.  It  was  the  weak,  vacillating,  obstinate, 
and  stupid  George  III.  who  precipitated  the  conflict, 
from  which  his  Minister  sought  to  dissuade  him. 
“  Pour  regiments,”  wrote  the  king,  “  will  bring  them 
[the  colonies]  to  their  senses  ;  they  will  only  be  lions 
while  we  are  lambs.” 

“  Impossible,”  said  Napoleon,  “  is  a  word  found  only 
in  the  dictionary  of  fools.”  He  would  have  melted  the 
rocks  of  St.  Helena  before  he  would  have  remained  a 
prisoner  there,  had  he  not  lost  that  imperious  will 
before  which  all  Europe  trembled. 

When  General  Grant  took  command  of  the  Northern 
armies,  the  Confederates  knew  that  their  doom  was 
sealed,  for  in  that  mighty  will  they  felt  the  grip  of  Fate. 
“  On  to  Richmond !  ”  was  his  watchword.  Old  com¬ 
manders  shook  their  heads,  but  the  silent  man  with  the 
iron  will,  who  never  knew  when  he  was  beaten,  swerved 


AN  IRON  WILL.  61 

not  a  hair’s  breadth  from  his  purpose  until  Lee  sur- 
rendered  his  sword  at  Appomattox. 

Garrison  wrote  in  the  very  first  issue  of  the  “  Liber¬ 
ator:”  “I  am  in  earnest.  I  will  not  equivocate.  I 
will  not  excuse.  I  will  not  retreat  a  single  inch ;  and 
I  will  be  heard.”  Such  uncompromising  determination 
was  not  only  the  making  of  himself,  but  also  of  such 
heroes  as  Lincoln  and  Grant,  and  the  thousands  of 
unknown  heroes  dead  upon  the  field  of  honor.  That 
was  a  will  worth  having. 

At  the  close  of  the  Bevolutionary  War,  that  consum¬ 
mate  debater  and  unequaled  master  of  sarcasm,  the 
younger  Pitt,  began  his  long  administration  as  Prime 
Minister  of  England.  His  policy  was  strongly  opposed 
to  the  French  Bevolution.  But  at  the  end  of  many 
successes  Austerlitz  proved  his  death-blow.  Hearing 
of  Napoleon’s  victory,  he  pointed  to  a  map  of  Europe 
and  said,  “Boll  up  that  chart;  it  will  not  be  wanted 
these  ten  years.”  He  then  fell  into  a  stupor,  from 
which  he  awoke  but  once,  murmuring  faintly,  “Alas, 
my  country  !  ”  Napoleon’s  supreme  will  had  overborne 
and  crushed  a  mind  and  will  of  the  very  highest  order; 
a  mind  sagacious  enough  to  measure  very  accurately 
the  force  of  events,  as  it  was,  almost  to  a  day,  ten 
years  to  Waterloo. 

What  a  mighty  will  Darwin  had  !  He  was  in  contin¬ 
ual  ill  health.  He  was  in  constant  suffering.  His  pa¬ 
tience  was  marvelous.  No  one  but  his  wife  knew  what 
he  endured.  “For  forty  years,”  saj^s  his  son,  “he 
never  knew  one  day  of  health ;  ”  yet  during  those  forty 
years  he  unremittingly  forced  himself  to  do  the  worl 
from  which  the  mightiest  minds  and  the  strongest  con¬ 
stitutions  would  have  shrunk.  He  had  a  wonderfu1 
power  of  sticking  to  a  subject.  He  used  almost  to 
apologize  for  his  patience,  saying  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  be  beaten,  as  if  it  were  a  sign  of  weakness. 
One  of  his  favorite  sayings  was  :  “  It  ’s  dogged  that 


62 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


does  it.”  A  proof  of  his  wonderful  patience,  persever¬ 
ance,  and  carefulness  is  that  he  collected  his  material 
for  his  “  Origin  of  Species  ”  during  twenty  years,  and 
for  his  “  Descent  of  Man  ”  during  nearly  thirty. 

Tupper  may  be  a  little  old-fashioned,  but  he  has 
written  four  lines  which  can  never  die  :  — 

Confidence  is  conqueror  of  men;  victorious  both  over  them  and  in  themj 
The  iron  will  of  one  stout  heart  shall  make  a  thousand  quail ; 

A  feeble  dwarf,  dauntlessly  resolved,  will  turn  the  tide  of  battle, 

And  rally  to  a  nobler  strife  the  giants  that  had  fled.” 


CHAPTER  IV. 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS. 

Dost  thou  love  life  ?  Then  do  not  squander  time,  for  that  is  the  etufl 
life  is  made  of.  —  Franklin. 

Eternity  itself  cannot  restore  the  loss  struck  from  the  minute. — 
Ancient  Poet. 

Periunt  et  imputantur,  — the  hours  perish  and  are  laid  to  our  charge.— 
Inscription  on  a  Dial  at  Oxford. 

I  wasted  time,  and  now  doth  time  waste  me.  —  Shakespeare. 

Every  hour  in  a  man’s  life  has  its  own  special  work  possible  for  it,  and 
for  no  other  hour  within  the  allotted  span  of  years,  and  once  gone  it  will 
not  return.  —  Noel  Paton. 

A  man  that  is  young  in  years  may  be  old  in  hours,  if  he  have  lost  no 
time.  —  Bacon. 

Believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  thrift  of  time  will  repay  you  in  after 
life,  with  a  usury  of  profit  beyond  your  most  sanguine  dreams,  and  that 
waste  of  it  will  make  you  dwindle  alike  in  intellectual  and  moral  stature, 
beyond  your  darkest  reckoning.  — Gladstone. 

There  is  not  an  hour  of  youth  but  is  trembling  with  destinies  —  not  a 
moment  of  which,  once  past,  the  appointed  work  can  ever  be  done  again, 
or  the  neglected  blow  struck  on  the  cold  iron.  —  Ruskin. 

Lost !  Somewhere  between  sunrise  and  sunset,  two  golden  hours,  each 
set  with  sixty  diamond  minutes.  No  reward  is  offered,  for  they  are  gone 
forever.  —  Horace  Mann. 

Give  me  insight  into  to-day,  and  you  may  have  the  antique  and  future 
worlds.  —  Emerson. 

There  is  no  business,  no  avocation  whatever,  which  will  not  permit  a 
man  who  has  an  inclination,  to  give  a  little  time  every  day  to  the  studies 
of  his  youth.  —  Wyttenbach. 

And  the  plea  that  this  or  that  man  has  no  time  for  culture  will  vanish 
as  soon  as  we  desire  culture  so  much  that  we  begin  to  examine  seriously 
into  our  present  use  of  time.  —  Matthew  Arnold. 

“What  is  tlie  price  of  that  book  ?  ”  at  length  asked  a 
man  who  had  been  dawdling  for  an  hour  in  the  front 
store  of  Benjamin  Franklin’s  newspaper  establishment. 
“  One  dollar,”  replied  the  clerk.  “  One  dollar,”  echoed 
the  lounger ;  “  can’t  you  take  less  than  that  ?  ”  “  One 

dollar  is  the  price,”  was  the  answer. 


64 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


The  would-be  purchaser  looked  over  the  books  on  sale 
awhile  longer,  and  then  inquired :  “  Is  Mr.  Franklin  in  ?  ” 
“  Yes,”  said  the  clerk,  “he  is  very  busy  in  the  press¬ 
room.”  “Well,  I  want  to  see  him,”  persisted  the  man. 
The  proprietor  was  called,  and  the  stranger  asked : 
^  What  is  the  lowest,  Mr.  Franklin,  that  you  can  take 
for  that  book  ?  ”  “  One  dollar  and  a  quarter,”  was  the 

prompt  rejoinder.  “  One  dollar  and  a  quarter  !  Why, 
your  clerk  asked  me  only  a  dollar  just  now.”  “  True,” 
said  Franklin,  “  and  I  could  have  better  afforded  to  take 
a  dollar  than  to  leave  my  work.” 

The  man  seemed  surprised;  but,  wishing  to  end  a 
parley  of  his  own  seeking,  he  demanded :  “Well,  come 
now,  tell  me  your  lowest  price  for  this  book.”  “  One 
dollar  and  a  half,”  replied  Franklin.  “A  dollar  and  a 
half !  Why,  you  offered  it  yourself  for  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter.”  “Yes,”  said  Franklin  coolly,  “and  I  could 
better  have  taken  that  price  then  than  a  dollar  and  a 
half  now.” 

The  man  silently  laid  the  money  on  the  counter,  took 
his  book,  and  left  the  store,  having  received  a  salutary 
lesson  from  a  master  in  the  art  of  transmuting  time,  at 
will,  into  either  wealth  or  wisdom. 

Time-wasters  are  everywhere. 

On  the  floor  of  the  gold-working  room  in  the  United 
States  Mint  at  Philadelphia,  there  is  a  wooden  lattice- 
work  which  is  taken  up  when  the  floor  is  swept,  and  the 
fine  particles  of  gold-dust,  thousands  of  dollars  yearly, 
are  thus  saved.  So  every  successful  man  has  a  kind  of 
network  to  catch  “  the  raspings  and  parings  of  exist¬ 
ence,  those  leavings  of  days  and  wee  bits  of  hours  ” 
which  most  people  sweep  into  the  waste  of  life.  He 
who  hoards  and  turns  to  account  all  odd  minutes,  half 
hours,  unexpected  holidays,  gaps  “  between  times,”  and 
chasms  of  waiting  for  unpunctual  persons,  achieves  re¬ 
sults  which  astonish  those  who  have  not  mastered  this 
secret. 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS.  65 


“  All  that  I  have  accomplished,  or  expect,  or  hope  to 
accomplish,”  said  Elihu  Burritt,  “has  been  and  will  be 
by  that  plodding,  patient,  persevering  process  of  accre^ 
tion  which  builds  the  ant-heap  —  particle  by  particle, 
thought  by  thought,  fact  by  fact.  And  if  ever  I  was 
actuated  by  ambition,  its  highest  and  warmest  aspira- 
tion  reached  no  further  than  the  hope  to  set  before  the 
young  men  of  my  country  an  example  in  employing 
those  invaluable  fragments  of  time  called  moments.” 

“  I  have  been  wondering  how  hTed  contrived  to  mo¬ 
nopolize  all  the  talents  of  the  family,”  said  a  brother, 
found  in  a  brown  study  after  listening  to  one  of  Burke’s 
speeches  in  Parliament ;  “  but  then  I  remember,  when 
we  were  at  play,  he  was  always  at  work.” 

The  days  come  to  us  like  friends  in  disguise,  bringing 
priceless  gifts  from  an  unseen  hand ;  but,  if  we  do  not 
use  them,  they  are  borne  silently  away,  never  to  return. 
Each  successive  morning  new  gifts  are  brought,  but  if 
we  failed  to  accept  those  that  were  brought  yesterday 
and  the  day  before,  we  become  less  and  less  able  to  turn 
them  to  account,  until  the  ability  to  appreciate  and 
utilize  them  is  exhausted.  Wisely  was  it  said  that  lost 
wealth  may  be  regained  by  industry  and  economy,  lost 
knowledge  by  study,  lost  health  by  temperance  and 
medicine,  but  lost  time  is  gone  forever. 

“  Oh,  it ’s  only  five  minutes  or  ten  minutes  till  meal¬ 
time  ;  there ’s  no  time  to  do  anything  now,”  is  one  of 
the  commonest  expressions  heard  in  the  family.  But 
what  monuments  have  been  built  up  by  poor  boys  with 
no  chance,  out  of  broken  fragments  of  time  which  many 
of  us  throw  away.  The  very  hours  you  have  wasted, 
if  improved,  might  have  insured  your  success. 

“While  the  students  at  Andover  were  waiting  for 
breakfast  at  the  boarding-house,”  said  a  lady,  “the 
test  of  the  young  men  would  stand  chaffing  each  other; 
but  Joseph  Cook,  if  there  were  only  a  half  minute  to 
spare,  would  turn  to  the  big  dictionary  in  the  corner  of 


66 


Pushing  to  the  front. 


the  room,  and  learn  the  synonyms  of  a  word,  or  search 
out  its  derivation.”  It  is  a  cheap  thing  to  say  that 
Joseph  Cook  has  evidently  swallowed  the  dictionary, 
and  cheap  people  often  make  the  remark ;  hut  our  age 
has  not  produced  many  nobler  geniuses  nor  a  more 
magnificent  specimen  of  true  self-culture. 

Marion  Harland  has  accomplished  wonders,  and  she 
has  been  able  to  do  this  by  economizing  the  minutes  to 
shape  her  novels  and  newspaper  articles,  when  her  chil¬ 
dren  were  in  bed  and  whenever  she  could  get  a  spare 
minute.  Though  she  has  done  so  much,  yet  all  her  life 
has  been  subject  to  interruptions  which  would  have  dis¬ 
couraged  most  women  from  attempting  anything  outside 
their  regular  family  duties.  She  has  glorified  the  com¬ 
monplace  as  few  other  women  have  done.  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe,  too,  wrote  her  great  masterpiece,  “Uncle 
Tom’s  Cabin,”  in  the  midst  of  pressing  household  cares. 
Beecher  read  Fronde’s  “England,”  a  little  each  day 
that  he  had  to  wait  for  dinner.  Longfellow  translated 
the  “  Inferno  ”  by  snatches  of  ten  minutes  a  day,  while 
waiting  for  his  coffee  to  boil,  persisting  for  years  until 
the  work  was  done. 

Hugh  Miller,  while  working  hard  as  a  stone-mason, 
found  time  to  read  scientific  books,  and  write  the 
lessons  learned  from  the  blocks  of  stone  he  handled. 

Madame  de  Genlis,  when  companion  of  the  future 
queen  of  France,  composed  several  of  her  charming  vol¬ 
umes  while  waiting  for  the  princess  to  whom  she  gave 
her  daily  lessons.  Burns  wrote  many  of  his  most  beau¬ 
tiful  poems  while  working  on  a  farm.  The  author  of 
“  Paradise  Lost  ”  was  a  teacher,  Secretary  of  the  Com¬ 
monwealth,  Secretary  of  the  Lord  Protector,  and  had 
to  write  his  sublime  poetry  whenever  he  could  snatch  a 
few  minutes  from  a  busy  life.  John  Stuart  Mill  did 
much  of  his  best  work  as  a  writer  while  a  clerk  in  the 
East  India  House.  Galileo  was  a  surgeon,  yet  to  the 
improvement  of  his  spare  moments  the  world  owes 
some  of  its  greatest  discoveries. 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS .  67 


If  a  genius  like  Gladstone  carries  through  life  a  little 
book  in  his  pocket  lest  an  unexpected  spare  moment  slip 
from  his  grasp,  what  should  we  of  common  abilities  not 
resort  to,  to  save  the  precious  moments  from  oblivion  ? 
What  a  rebuke  is  such  a  life  to  the  thousands  of  young 
men  and  women  who  throw  away  whole  months  and 
3 ven  years  of  that  which  the  “  Grand  Old  Man  ”  hoards 
up  even  to  the  smallest  fragments.  Many  a  great  man 
has  snatched  his  reputation  from  odd  bits  of  time  which 
others,  who  wonder  at  their  failure  to  get  on,  throw 
away.  In  Dante’s  time  nearly  every  literary  man  in 
Italy  was  a  hard-working  merchant,  physician,  states¬ 
man,  judge,  or  soldier. 

While  Michael  Faraday  was  employed  binding  books, 
he  devoted  all  his  leisure  fo  experiments.  At  one  time 
he  wrote  to  a  friend,  “Time  is  all  I  require.  Oh,  that  I 
could  purchase  at  a  cheap  rate  some  of  our  modern 
gentleman’s  spare  hours,  —  nay,  days.” 

Oh,  the  power  of  ceaseless  industry  to  perform  mira¬ 
cles  ! 

Alexander  von  Humboldt’s  days  were  so  occupied 
with  his  business  that  he  had  to  pursue  his  scientific 
labors  m  the  night  or  early  morning,  while  others  were 
asleep. 

Oh,  what  wonders  have  been  performed  in  “  one  hour 
a  day  !  ” 

One  hour  a  day  withdrawn  from  frivolous  pursuits, 
and  profitably  employed,  would  enable  any  man  of  or¬ 
dinary  capacity  to  master  a  complete  science.  One 
hour  a  day  would  make  an  ignorant  man  a  well- 
informed  man  in  ten  years.  One  hour  a  day  would 
earn  enough  to  pay  for  two  daily  and  two  weekly  papers, 
two  leading  magazines,  and  a  dozen  good  books.  In  an 
hour  a  day  a  boy  or  girl  could  read  twenty  pages  thought- 
fully  —  over  seven  thousand  pages,  or  eighteen  large 
volumes  in  a  year.  An  hour  a  day  might  make  all  the 
difference  between  bare  existence  and  useful,  happy 


68 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


living.  An  hour  a  day  might  make  —  nay,  has  made  — « 
an  unknown  man  a  famous  one,  a  useless  man  a  bene¬ 
factor  to  his  race.  Consider,  then,  the  mighty  possibili¬ 
ties  of  two  —  four  —  yes,  six  hours  a  day  that  are,  on 
the  average,  thrown  away  by  young  men  and  women  in 
the  restless  desire  for  fun  and  diversion ! 

Every  young  man  should  have  a  hobby  to  occupy  his 
leisure  hours,  something  useful  to  which  he  can  turn 
with  delight,  whenever  he  has  a  little  leisure  time.  It 
might  be  in  line  with  his  work  or  otherwise,  only  his 
heart  must  be  in  it.  A  stone-cutter  had  butterflies  for 
a  hobby;  and,  when  he  died,  he  had  one  of  the  best 
collections  in  the  world. 

If  one  chooses  wisely,  the  study,  research,  and  occupa¬ 
tion  that  a  hobby  confers  will  broaden  character  and 
transform  the  home. 

“  He  has  nothing  to  prevent  him  but  too  much  idle¬ 
ness,  which  I  have  observed,”  says  Burke,  “  fills  up  a 
man’s  time  much  more  completely  and  leaves  him  less 
his  master,  than  any  sort  of  employment  whatsoever.” 

Some  boys  will  pick  up  a  good  education  in  the  odds 
and  ends  of  time  which  others  carelessly  throw  away, 
as  one  man  saves  a  fortune  by  small  economies  which 
others  disdain  to  practice.  What  young  man  is  too 
busy  to  get  an  hour  a  day  for  self-improvement  ? 
Charles  0.  Frost,  the  celebrated  shoemaker  of  Vermont, 
resolved  to  devote  one  hour  a  day  to  study.  He  became 
one  of  the  most  noted  mathematicians  in  the  United 
States.  He  also  gained  an  enviable  reputation  in  other 
departments  of  knowledge.  John  Hunter,  like  Napo¬ 
leon,  allowed  himself  but  four  hours  of  sleep,  and  it 
took  Professor  Owen  ten  years  to  arrange  and  classify 
the  specimens  in  Comparative  Anatomy,  over  twenty- 
four  thousand  in  number,  which  Hunter’s  industry  had 
collected.  What  a  record  for  a  boy  who  began  his 
studies  while  working  as  a  carpenter ! 

John  Q.  Adams  complained  bitterly  when  robbed  of 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS,  69 

his  time  by  those  who  had  no  right  to  it.  An  Italian 
scholar  put  over  his  door  the  inscription :  “  Whoever 

tarries  here  must  join  in  my  labors.”  Carlyle,  Tennyson, 
Browning,  and  Dickens  signed  a  remonstrance  against 
organ-grinders  who  disturbed  their  work,  Baxter  once 
had  callers  who  said,  “  We  fear  we  break  in  upon  your 
time.”  “  To  be  sure  you  do,”  said  the  man  who  hoarded 
his  moments  as  a  miser  hoards  his  gold. 

“  My  morning  haunts,”  said  Milton,  “  are  where  they 
should  be,  at  home ;  not  sleeping,  or  concocting  the 
surfeits  of  an  irregular  feast,  but  up  and  stirring ;  in 
winter,  often  ere  the  sound  of  any  bell  awakens  men  to 
labor  or  devotion  ;  in  summer,  as  oft  with  the  bird  that 
first  rouses,  or  not  much  tardier,  to  read  good  authors, 
or  cause  them  to  be  read,  till  attention  be  weary  or 
memory  have  its  full  freight,  then  with  useful  and  gen¬ 
erous  labors  preserving  the  body’s  health  and  hardi¬ 
ness.” 

“  When  one  begins  to  turn  in  bed,”  says  Wellington, 
“  it  is  time  to  turn  out.” 

Many  of  the  greatest  men  of  history  earned  their 
fame  outside  of  their  regular  occupations  in  odd  bits  of 
time  which  most  people  squander.  Spenser  made  his 
reputation  in  his  spare  time,  while  Secretary  of  the 
Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland.  Sir  John  Lubbock’s  fame 
rests  on  his  pre-historic  studies,  prosecuted  outside  of 
his  busy  banking-hours.  Southey,  seldom  idle  for  a 
minute,  wrote  a  hundred  volumes.  Hawthorne’s  note¬ 
book  shows  that  he  never  let  a  chance  thought  or  cir¬ 
cumstance  escape  him.  Franklin  was  a  tireless  worker. 
He  crowded  his  meals  and  sleep  into  as  small  compass 
as  possible,  that  he  might  gain  time  for  study.  When 
a  child,  he  became  impatient  of  his  father’s  long  grace 
at  table,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  not  say  grace  over  a 
whole  cask  once  for  all,  and  save  time.  He  wrote  some 
of  his  best  productions  on  shipboard,  such  as  his  “  Im* 
provement  of  Navigation  ”  and  “  Smoky  Chimneys.” 


70 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


What  a  lesson  there  is  in  Raphael’s  brief  thirty-seven 
years  to  those  who  plead  “  no  time  ”  as  an  excuse  for 
wasted  lives ! 

Great  men  have  ever  been  misers  of  moments.  Cicero 
said :  “  What  others  give  to  public  shows  and  entertain¬ 
ments,  nay,  even  to  mental  and  bodily  rest,  I  give  to 
the  study  of  philosophy.”  A  great  Chancellor  of 
France  wrote  a  valuable  work  in  odd  moments  while 
waiting  for  his  meals.  Lord  Bacon’s  fame  springs  from 
the  work  of  his  leisure  hours  while  Chancellor  of 
England.  During  an  interview  with  a  great  monarch, 
Goethe  suddenly  excused  himself,  went  into  an  adjoin¬ 
ing  room  and  wrote  down  a  thought  for  his  “  Faust,” 
lest  it  should  be  forgotten.  Sir  Humphry  Davy 
achieved  eminence  in  spare  moments  in  an  attic  of  an 
apothecary’s  shop.  Pope  would  often  rise  in  the  night 
to  write  out  thoughts  that  would  not  come  during  the 
busy  day.  Grote  wrote  his  matchless  “  History  of 
Greece  ”  during  the  hours  of  leisure  snatched  from  his 
duties  as  a  banker. 

George  Stephenson  seized  the  moments  as  though 
they  were  gold.  He  educated  himself  and  did  much  of 
his  best  work  during  his  spare  moments.  He  learned 
arithmetic  during  the  night  shifts  when  he  was  an 
engineer.  Mozart  would  not  allow  a  moment  to  slip  by 
unimproved.  He  would  sometimes  write  two  whole 
nights  and  a  day  without  intermission.  He  would  not 
stop  his  work  long  enough  to  sleep.  He  wrote  his  fa¬ 
mous  “  Requiem  ”  on  his  deatli-bed. 

Caesar  said:  “  Under  my  tent  in  the  fiercest  struggle 
of  war  I  have  always  found  time  to  think  of  many 
other  things.”  He  Avas  once  sliipAvrecked,  and  had  to 
SAvim  ashore  ;  but  he  carried  Avith  him  the  manuscript  of 
his  “  Commentaries,”  upon  Avhich  he  was  at  Avork  Avhen 
the  ship  went  down. 

Samuel  Budgett  seemed  born  to  work,  “  Doing, 
doing,  ever  doing,”  says  his  biographer,  (( he  seemed  to 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS.  71 

abhor  idleness  more  than  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum.  An 
idle  hour  would  have  been  a  sort  of  purgatory.”  In 
his  notes  he  speaks  of  a  “  joyless  and  an  uncomfortable 
Sabbath  ;  and  no  wonder,”  he  adds,  “  for  I  did  not  rise 
till  half  past  five  o’clock.” 

Dr.  Mason  Good  translated  “  Lucretius  ”  while  riding 
to  visit  his  patients  in  London.  Dr.  Darwin  composed 
most  of  his  works  by  writing  his  thoughts  on  scraps  of 
paper  wherever  he  happened  to  be.  Watt  learned 
chemistry  and  mathematics  while  working  at  his  trade 
of  a  mathematical  instrument-maker.  A  boy  in  Man¬ 
chester,  England,  learned  Latin  and  French  while  rum 
ning  errands.  Henry  Kirke  AVhite  learned  Greek  while 
walking  to  and  from  the  lawyer’s  office  where  he  was 
studying.  Dr.  Burney  learned  Italian  and  French  on 
horseback.  Matthew  Hale  wrote  his  a  Contemplations  ” 
while  traveling  on  his  circuit  as  judge. 

Jeremy  Bentham  thought  it  a  calamity  to  lose  the 
least  bit  of  time,  and  so  arranged  his  work  that  not  a 
moment  would  be  wasted. 

The  present  time  is  the  raw  material  out  of  which  we 
make  whatever  we  will.  Do  not  brood  over  the  past, 
or  dream  of  the  future,  but  seize  the  instant  and  get 
your  lesson  from  the  hour.  The  man  is  yet  unborn  who 
rightly  measures  and  fully  realizes  the  value  of  an 
hour.  As  Fenelon  says,  God  never  gives  but  one  mo¬ 
ment  at  a  time,  and  does  not  give  a  second  until  he 
withdraws  the  first. 

Lord  Brougham  could  not  bear  to  lose  a  moment,  yet 
he  was  so  systematic  that  he  always  seemed  to  have 
more  leisure  than  many  who  did  not  accomplish  a  tithe 
of  what  he  did.  He  achieved  distinction  in  politics, 
law,  science,  and  literature. 

Dr.  Johnson  wrote  “Basselas”  in  the  evenings  of  a 
single  week,  to  meet  the  expenses  of  his  mother’s 
funeral. 

The  wise  Cato  said  that  he  regretted  only  three 


72 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


things  in  his  life :  telling  his  wife  a  secret,  going  once 
by  sea  when  he  could  have  gone  by  land,  and  passing 
one  day  without  doing  anything. 

Lincoln  studied  law  during  his  spare  hours  while 
surveying,  and  learned  the  common  branches  unaided 
while  tending  store.  Mrs.  Somerville  learned  botany 
and  astronomy,  and  wrote  books  while  her  neighbors 
were  gossiping  and  idling.  At  eighty  she  published 
“  Molecular  and  Microscopical  Science.” 

The  worst  of  a  lost  hour  is  not  so  much  in  the 
wasted  time  as  in  the  wasted  power.  Idleness  rusts 
the  nerves  and  makes  the  muscles  creak.  Work  has 
system,  laziness  has  none.  President  Quincy  never 
went  to  bed  until  he  had  laid  his  plans  for  the  next 
day.  I 

Dalton’s  industry  was  the  passion  of  his  life.  He 
made  and  recorded  over  two  hundred  thousand  meteor¬ 
ological  observations.  He  seldom  lost  a  moment. 

In  factories  for  making  cloth  a  single  broken  thread 
ruins  a  whole  web;  it  is  traced  back  to  the  girl  who 
made  the  blunder  and  the  loss  is  deducted  from  her 
wages.  But  who  shall  pay  for  the  broken  threads  in 
life’s  great  web  ?  We  cannot  throw  back  and  forth  an 
empty  shuttle  ;  threads  of  some  kind  follow  every  move¬ 
ment  as  we  weave  the  web  of  our  fate.  It  may  be  a 
shoddy  thread  of  wasted  hours  or  lost  opportunities 
that  will  mar  the  fabric  and  mortify  the  workman  for¬ 
ever  ;  or  it  may  be  a  golden  thread  which  will  add  to 
its  beauty  and  lustre.  We  cannot  stop  the  shuttle  or 
pull  out  the  unfortunate  thread  which  stretches  across 
the  fabric,  a  perpetual  witness  of  our  folly. 

Don’t  defer  your  good  deeds  until  you  have  time  to 
do  them.  Very  little  good  was  ever  done  during  hours 
of  leisure.  It  is  the  men  and  women  who  are  crowded 
with  work  who  build  hospitals,  churches,  and  orphan 
asylums,  and  do  the  great  charities  of  the  world. 
iNo  one  is  anxious  about  a  young  man  while  he  is 


POSSIBILITIES  IN  SPARE  MOMENTS.  73 

busy  in  useful  work.  But  where  does  he  eat  his  lunch 
at  noon  ?  Where  does  he  go  when  he  leaves  his  board¬ 
ing-house  at  night?  What  does  he  do  after  supper? 
Where  does  he  spend  his  Sundays  and  holidays  ?  The 
way  he  uses  his  spare  moments  reveals  his  character. 
The  great  majority  of  youth  who  go  to  the  bad  are 
ruined  after  supper.  Most  of  those  who  climb  upward 
to  honor  and  fame  devote  their  evenings  to  study  or 
work  or  the  society  of  the  wise  and  good.  For  the 
right  use  of  these  leisure  hours,  what  we  have  called  the 
waste  of  life,  the  odd  moments  usually  thrown  away, 
the  author  would  plead  with  every  youth.  Each  even¬ 
ing  is  a  crisis  in  the  career  of  a  young  man.  There  is  a 
deep  significance  in  the  lines  of  Whittier :  — 

“  This  day  we  fashion  Destiny,  our  web  of  Fate  we  spin; 

This  day  for  all  hereafter  choose  we  holiness  or  sin.” 

Time  is  money.  We  should  not  be  stingy  or  mean 
with  it,  but  we  should  not  throw  away  an  hour  any 
more  than  we  would  throw  away  a  dollar-bill.  Waste 
of  time  means  waste  of  energy,  waste  of  vitality,  waste 
of  character  in  dissipation.  It  means  bad  companions, 
bad  habits.  It  means  the  waste  of  opportunities  which 
will  never  come  back.  Beware  how  you  kill  time,  for 
all  your  future  lives  in  it. 

“  Of  memory  many  a  poet  sings ;  and  Hope  hath  oft  inspired  the  rhyme  ; 

But  who  the  charm  of  music  brings  to  celebrate  the  present  time  ? 

Let  the  past  guide,  the  future  cheer,  while  youth  and  health  are  in  theii 
prime; 

But,  oh,  be  still  thy  greatest  care  —  that  awful  point  —  the  present  time  !  ” 

“  And  it  is  left  for  each,”  says  Edward  Everett,  “  by 
the  cultivation  of  every  talent,  by  watching  with  an 
eagle’s  eye  for  every  chance  of  improvement,  by  redeem¬ 
ing  time,  defying  temptation,  and  scorning  sensual  pleas- 
ure,  to  make  himself  useful,  honored,  and  happy.” 


CHAPTER  Y. 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES. 

To  business  that  we  love,  we  rise  betimes, 

And  go  to  it  with  delight. 

Shakespeare. 

The  high  prize  of  life,  the  crowning  fortune  of  a  man,  is  to  be  born  with 
a  bias  to  some  pursuit,  which  finds  him  in  employment  and  happiness.  — 
Emerson. 

How  often  we  find,  in  the  history  of  men  of  genius,  that  they  neglected 
the  studies  or  the  business  to  which  they  were  put,  and  took  to  something 
more  congenial  to  their  tastes  !  How  often  we  find  them  rebelling  against 
the  injunctions  and  the  arrangements  of  parents  and  guardians,  and  mak¬ 
ing  arrangements  of  their  own  !  — Robert  Waters. 

If  you  choose  to  represent  the  various  parts  in  life  by  holes  in  a  table  of 
different  shapes,  —  some  circular,  some  triangular,  some  square,  some  ob¬ 
long,  —  and  the  persons  acting  these  parts  by  bits  of  wood  of  similar  shapes, 
we  shall  generally  find  that  the  triangular  person  has  got  into  the  square 
hole,  the  oblong  into  the  triangular;  while  the  square  person  has  squeezed 
himself  into  the  round  hole.  —  Sydney  Smith. 

I  cannot  too  often  repeat  that  no  man  struggles  perpetually  and  victori¬ 
ously  against  his  own  character. —  Sir  H.  L.  Bulwer. 

“  What  the  child  admired, 

The  youth  endeavored,  and  the  man  acquired.” 

There  is  hardly  a  poet,  artist,  philosopher,  or  man  of  science  mentioned 
in  the  history  of  the  human  intellect,  whose  genius  was  not  opposed  by 
parents,  guardians,  or  teachers.  In  these  cases  Nature  seems  to  have  tri¬ 
umphed  by  direct  interposition  ;  to  have  insisted  on  her  darlings  having 
their  rights,  and  encouraged  disobedience,  secrecy,  falsehood,  even  flight 
from  home  and  occasional  vagabondism,  rather  than  the  world  should 
jcise  what  it  cost  her  so  much  pains  to  produce.  —  E.  P.  WmrPLE. 


I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 

Which  says,  I  must  not  stay  ; 

I  see  a  hand  vou  cannot  see. 

Which  beckons  me  away. 

Tickell. 


u  James  Watt,  I  never  saw  such  an  idle  young  fellow 
as  you  are/’  said  his  grandmother ;  “  do  take  a  book  and 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES . 


75 


employ  yourself  usefully.  For  the  last  half-hour  you 
have  not  spoken  a  single  word.  Do  you  know  what  you 
have  been  doing  all  this  time  ?  Why,  you  have  taken 
off  and  replaced,  and  taken  off  again,  the  teapot  lid,  and 
you  have  held  alternately  in  the  steam,  first  a  saucer 
and  then  a  spoon,  and  you  have  busied  yourself  in  ex< 
amining  and  collecting  together  the  little  drops  formed 
by  the  condensation  of  the  steam  on  the  surface  of  the 
china  and  the  silver.  Now,  are  you  not  ashamed  to 
waste  your  time  in  this  disgraceful  manner  ?” 

The  world  has  certainly  gained  much  through  the  old 
lady’s  failure  to  tell  James  how  he  could  employ  his 
time  to  better  advantage  ! 

“  But  I ’m  good  for  something,”  pleaded  a  young  man 
whom  a  merchant  was  about  to  discharge  for  his  blunt¬ 
ness.  “You  are  good  for  nothing  as  a  salesman,”  said 
his  employer.  “  I  am  sure  I  can  be  useful,”  said  the 
youth.  “  How  ?  Tell  me  how.”  “  I  don’t  know,  sir,  I 
don’t  know.”  “  Nor  do  I,”  said  the  merchant,  laughing 
at  the  earnestness  of  his  clerk.  “Only  don’t  put  me 
away,  sir,  don’t  put  me  away.  Try  me  at  something 
besides  selling.  I  cannot  sell ;  I  know  I  cannot  sell.” 

“  I  know  that,  too,”  said  the  principal ;  “  that  is  what 
is  wrong.”  “  But  I  can  make  myself  useful  somehow,” 
persisted  the  young  man ;  “  I  know  I  can.”  He  was 
placed  in  the  counting-house,  where  his  aptitude  for  fig¬ 
ures  soon  showed  itself,  and  in  a  few  years  he  became 
not  only  chief  cashier  in  the  large  store,  but  an  eminent  ' 
accountant. 

Thomas  Edward  of  Aberdeen,  Scotland,  celebrated 
his  acquisition  of  the  art  of  walking  by  losing  himself, 
eo  that  father,  and  mother,  and  neighbors  were  about  to 
give  up  the  search  in  despair,  when  some  one  happened 
to  look  in  the  pig-pen,  and  there  lay  the  scamp  fast 
asleep  by  the  side  of  some  little  pigs,  the  brood  of  a 
sow  so  savage  that  no  grown  person  dared  venture  into 
the  sty.  He  had  formed  a  taste  for  excursions  into  the 


76 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


wide  world,  and  almost  every  day  lie  would  bring  home 
priceless  treasures,  such  as  tadpoles,  beetles,  frogs,  crabs, 
mice,  rats,  spiders,  and  bugs.  These  pets  he  would 
liberate,  and  watch  them  run  around  and  hide,  greatly 
to  his  own  delight,  and  the  terror  of  everybody  else. 
Whipping  and  scolding  only  seemed  to  stimulate  him  ! 
to  greater  exertions  in  his  work  of  capturing  living 
curiosities. 

His  mother  tied  him  by  the  leg  to  a  table ;  but  Thomas 
dragged  the  table  to  the  fire,  burned  off  the  rope  and 
escaped,  returning  at  dusk  with  a  large  collection  of 
living  creatures.  She  hid  all  his  clothes,  but  he  had  a 
grand  trip  in  an  old  petticoat,  bringing  back  some  fine 
specimens,  and  a  fever  which  nearly  killed  him.  As 
soon  as  he  could  get  out  again,  he  brought  back,  hid  in 
his  shirt,  a  nest  full  of  wasps  of  the  most  enterprising 
kind.  The  wasps  seemed  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
Thomas,  but  they  took  exceptions  to  every  other  mem- 
ber  of  the  family,  until  peace  was  finally  restored  when 
his  father  plunged  the  whole  nest  into  hot  water. 

Tommy  had  taken  all  the  conceit  out  of  his  parents 
as  to  their  ability  to  control  him,  but  before  giving  him 
up  altogether,  they  resolved  to  see  if  the  schoolmaster 
could  not  reclaim  him.  He  tried.  He  failed.  Tommy 
would  play  truant  most  of  the  time,  or  turn  the  school 
into  a  menagerie.  One  morning  a  jackdaw  poked  his 
head  out  of  Tommy’s  pocket,  and  began  to  caw  during 
prayers,  and  Thomas  Edward  was  dismissed  in  disgrace. 
He  was  sent  to  another  school,  until  one  day,  a  lot  of 
horse-leeches  escaped  from  a  bottle  and  crawled  up  the 
legs  of  nearly  every  boy  in  school,  drawing  blood.  He 
was  again  dismissed.  His  parents  tried  to  reinstate 
him.  “  I  would  not  take  him  back  for  twenty  pounds/'' 
said  the  teacher  with  a  shudder. 

A  third  school  was  tried.  A  centipede  was  found  in 
another  boy’s  desk,  and  Thomas  knew  nothing  about  it. 
It  was  in  accord  with  the  eternal  fitness  of  things  for 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES.  77 

him  to  be  guilty,  so  the  teacher  whipped  him  severely 
and  said  :  “  Go  home  and  tell  your  father  to  get  you  on 
board  a  man-of-war,  as  that  is  the  best  school  for  irre- 
claimables  such  as  you.” 

He  was  six  years  old  and  could  not  write  his  name. 
He  refused  absolutely  to  go  to  school  again,  and  his  dis¬ 
couraged  parents  consented  for  him  to  go  out  and  earn 
his  living,  depression  of  every  kind  had  been  tried  in 
vain  upon  his  upspringing  instincts  and  propensities  for 
the  study  of  animal  life ;  restraint  at  last  removed, 
what  glorious  expression  they  found !  How  hard  he 
worked  that  he  might  gain  leisure  for  study !  He 
learned  the  trade  of  a  shoemaker,  and  worked  at  the 
bench  for  life,  rearing  a  family  of  eleven  children  and 
storing  away  a  wonderful  amount  of  knowledge  of  birds 
and  beasts  and  insects.  But,  from  the  lack  of  ability  to 
read  and  write,  he  could  not  classify  and  use  what  he 
learned.  So,  slowly  and  laboriously,  he  acquired  these 
useful  arts.  In  the  hope  of  getting  money  to  study  to 
better  advantage,  he  once  sold  six  cart-loads  of  speci¬ 
mens,  the  result  of  nine  years  of  labor,  for  only  twenty 
pounds. 

He  often  tried  to  get  employment  as  a  naturalist,  and 
failed  only  because  he  could  not  read  and  write  rapidly. 
If  he  had  been  encouraged  as  a  child  to  catch  and  study 
his  charming  specimens,  and  to  learn  to  read  and  write 
about  them,  who  shall  say  that  his  unequaled  love  of 
investigation  would  not  have  led  him  to  become  more 
than  an  Agassiz  or  a  Tenney  ?  But  he  had  been  wedged 
so  tightly  into  a  square  hole  that  he  never  got  out ! 

You  cannot  look  into  a  cradle  and  read  the  secret 
message  traced  by  a  divine  hand,  and  wrapped  up  in  that 
bit  of  clay,  any  more  than  you  can  see  the  North  Star 
in  the  magnetic  needle.  God  has  loaded  the  needle  of 
that  young  life  so  it  will  point  to  the  star  of  its  own 
destiny  ;  and  though  you  may  pull  it  around  by  arti¬ 
ficial  advice  and  unnatural  education,  and  compel  it  to 


78 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


point  to  the  star  which  presides  over  poetry,  art,  taWj  ; 
medicine,  or  your  own  pet  calling,  until  you  have  wasted 
years  of  a  precious  life,  yet,  when  once  free,  the  needle 
flies  back  to  its  own  star. 

“  Rue  it  as  he  may,  repent  it  as  he  often  does,”  says 
Robert  Waters,  “  the  man  of  genius  is  drawn  by  an  irre¬ 
sistible  impulse  to  the  occupation  for  which  he  was 
created.  No  matter  by  what  difficulties  surrounded,  no 
matter  how  unpromising  the  prospect,  this  occupation  is 
the  only  one  which  he  will  pursue  with  interest  and 
pleasure.  When  his  efforts  fail  to  procure  means  of 
subsistence,  and  he  finds  himself  poor  and  neglected,  he 
may,  like  Burns,  often  look  back  with  a  sigh  and  think 
how  much  better  off  he  would  be  had  he  pursued  some 
other  occupation,  but  he  will  stick  to  his  favorite  pun 
suit,  nevertheless.” 

Civilization  will  mark  its  highest  tide  when  every 
man  has  chosen  his  proper  work.  No  man  can  be 
ideally  successful  until  he  has  found  his  place.  Like  a 
locomotive  he  is  strong  on  the  track,  but  weak  anywhere 
else.  “  Like  a  boat  on  a  river,”  says  Emerson,  “  every 
boy  runs  against  obstructions  on  every  side  but  one.  On 
that  side  all  obstruction  is  taken  away,  and  he  sweeps 
serenely  over  a  deepening  channel  into  an  infinite  sea.” 

Only  a  Dickens  can  write  the  history  of  “  Boy 
Slavery,”  of  boys  whose  aspirations  and  longings  have 
been  silenced  forever  by  ignorant  parents ;  of  boys  per¬ 
secuted  as  lazy,  stupid,  or  fickle,  simply  because  they 
were  out  of  their  places ;  of  square  boys  forced  into 
round  holes,  and  oppressed  because  they  did  not  fit ;  of 
boys  compelled  to  pore  over  dry  theological  books  when 
the  voice  within  continually  cried  “  Law,”  “  Medicine,” 
“  Science,”  “Art,”  or  “Business;”  of  boys  tortured  be¬ 
cause  they  were  not  enthusiastic  in  employments  which 
they  loathed,  and  against  which  every  fibre  of  theii 
being  was  uttering  perpetual  protest. 

It  is  often  a  narrow  selfishness  in  a  father  which 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES .  T9 

leads  him  to  wish  his  son  a  reproduction  of  himself. 
u  You  are  trying  to  make  that  boy  another  you.  One  is 
enough,”  said  Emerson.  John  Jacob  Astor’s  father 
wished  his  son  to  be  his  successor  as  a  butcher,  but  the 
instinct  of  commercial  enterprise  was  too  strong  in  the 
future  merchant. 

Nature  never  duplicates  men.  She  breaks  the  pat¬ 
tern  at  every  birth.  The  magic  combination  is  never 
used  but  once.  Frederick  the  Great  was  terribly  abused 
because  he  had  a  passion  for  art  and  music  and  did  not 
care  for  military  drill.  His  father  hated  the  fine  arts 
and  imprisoned  the  boy.  He  even  contemplated  killing 
his  son,  but  his  own  death  placed  Frederick  on  the 
throne  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight.  This  boy,  who  was 
thought  good  for  nothing,  because  he  loved  art  and 
music,  made  Prussia  one  of  the  greatest  nations  of 
Europe. 

The  perusal  of  a  book,  the  execution  of  a  model,  or 
the  superintendency  of  a  water-wheel  of  his  own  con¬ 
struction,  whirling  the  glittering  spray  from  some 
neighboring  stream,  absorbed  all  of  Isaac  Newton’s 
thoughts  when  a  boy,  whilst  the  sheep  were  going  astray 
and  the  cattle  were  devouring  or  treading,  down  the 
neighbors’  corn.  This  convinced  his  mother  that  her 
son  was  not  made  for  a  farmer,  as  she  had  hoped. 

How  stupid  and  clumsy  is  the  blinking  eagle  at  perch, 
but  how  keen  his  glance,  how  steady  and  true  his 
curves,  when  turning  his  powerful  wing  against  the 
clear  blue  sky  ! 

Ignorant  parents  compelled  the  boy  Arkwright  to  be 
come  a  barber’s  apprentice,  but  Nature  had  locked  up  in 
his  brain  a  cunning  device  destined  to  bless  humanity, 
and  do  the  drudgery  of  millions  of  England’s  poor ;  so 
he  must  needs  say  a  hands  off  ”  even  to  his  parents,  as 
Christ  said  to  his  mother,  u  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be 
about  my  Father’s  business  ?  ” 

The  parents  of  Michael  Angelo  had  declared  that  no 


80 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


son  of  theirs  should  ever  follow  the  discreditable  pro* 
fession  of  an  artist,  and  even  punished  him  for  covering 
the  walls  and  furniture  with  sketches.  The  fire  burn¬ 
ing  in  his  breast  was  kindled  by  the  Divine  Artist,  and 
would  not  let  him  rest  until  he  had  immortalized  him¬ 
self  in  the  architecture  of  St.  Peter’s,  in  the  marble  of 
his  Moses,  and  on  the  walls  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

Hugh  Miller’s  parents  dedicated  their  son  to  the  min- 
istry,  the  Scotch  poor  being  always  anxious  to  have  at 
least  one  son  “  wag  his  maw  in  the  poopit.”  An  uncle 
offered  to  pay  his  way  in  college,  but  a  voice  within 
spoke  louder  than  his  parents  or  uncle.  The  stone- 
quarry  was  his  college,  and  he  preferred  to  hammer  his 
education  from  the  old  red  sandstone. 

Galileo  was  set  apart  for  a  physician,  but  when  com¬ 
pelled  to  study  anatomy  and  physiology,  he  would  hide 
his  Euclid  and  Archimedes,  and  stealthily  work  out  the 
abstruse  problems.  He  was  but  eighteen  when  he  dis¬ 
covered  the  principle  of  the  pendulum  in  the  lamp  left 
swinging  in  the  cathedral  at  Pisa.  He  invented  both 
the  microscope  and  telescope,  enlarging  knowledge  of 
the  vast  and  minute  alike. 

Pascal’s  father  determined  that  his  son  should  teach 
the  dead  languages,  but  the  voice  of  mathematics 
drowned  every  other  call,  haunting  the  boy  until  he  laid 
aside  his  grammar  for  Euclid. 

The  father  of  Joshua  Reynolds  rebuked  his  son  for 
drawing  pictures,  and  wrote  on  one  :  “  Done  by  Joshua 
out  of  pure  idleness.”  Yet  this  “idle  boy  ”  became  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

Turner  was  intended  for  a  barber  in  Maiden  Lane,  but 
became  the  greatest  landscape-painter  of  modern  times. 

Claude  Lorraine,  the  painter,  was  apprenticed  to  a 
pastry-cook  ;  Moliere,  the  author,  to  an  upholsterer ; 
and  Guido,  the  famous  painter  of  Aurora,  was  sent  to 
a  music  school.  The  Quakers  called  a  meeting  to  do 
cide  what  should  be  done  with  Benjamin  West,  as  paint 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES. 


81 


mg  was  not  in  accord  with  their  belief.  One  Friend  at 
length  arose  and  said :  “  God  has  bestowed  on  this 
youth  a  genius  for  art ;  shall  we  question  his  wisdom  ?  ” 
The  women  kissed  the  lad,  and  the  men,  laying  their 
hands  upon  his  head,  consecrated  him  to  the  career  of 
an  artist. 

Schiller  was  sent  to  study  surgery  in  the  military 
school  at  Stuttgart,  but  in  secret  he  produced  his  first 
play,  “  The  Robbers,”  whose  first  performance  he  had 
to  witness  in  disguise.  The  irksomeness  of  his  prison¬ 
like  school  so  galled  him,  and  his  longing  for  author¬ 
ship  so  allured  him,  that  he  ventured,  penniless,  into 
the  inhospitable  world  of  letters.  A  kind  lady  aided 
him,  and  soon  he  produced  the  two  splendid  dramas 
which  made  him  immortal. 

The  physician  Handel  wished  his  son  to  become  a 
lawyer,  and  so  tried  to  discourage  his  fondness  for 
I  music.  But  the  boy  got  an  old  spinet  and  practiced  on 
Kit  secretly  in  a  hayloft.  When  the  doctor  visited  a 
brother  in  the  service  of  the  uke  of  Weisenfelds,  he 
took  his  son  with  him.  The  boy  wandered  unobserved 
to  the  organ  in  a  chapel,  and  soon  had  a  private  concert 
under  full  blast.  The  duke  happened  to  hear  the  per¬ 
formance,  and  wondered  who  could  possibly  combine  so 
much  melody  with  so  much  evident  unfamiliarity  with 
the  instrument.  The  boy  was  brought  before  him,  and 
the  duke,  instead  of  blaming  him  for  disturbing  the 
organ,  praised  his  performance,  and  persuaded  Dr„ 
Handel  to  let  his  son  follow  his  bent.  Nature  never 
lets  a  man  rest  until  he  has  found  his  place.  She  haunts 
him  and  drives  him  until  all  his  faculties  give  their 
consent,  and  he  falls  into  his  proper  niche. 

Daniel  Defoe  had  been  a  trader,  a  soldier,  a  merchant, 
a  secretary,  a  factory  manager,  a  commissioner’s  ac¬ 
countant,  an  envoy,  and  an  author  of  several  indifferent 
books,  before  he  wrote  his  masterpiece,  “  Robinson 
Crusoe.” 


82 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Wilson,  the  ornithologist,  failed  in  five  different  pro* 
fessions  before  he  found  his  place. 

Erskine  spent  four  years  in  the  navy,  and  then,  in 
the  hope  of  more  rapid  promotion,  joined  the  army. 
After  serving  more  than  two  years,  he  one  day  attended 
a  court,  out  of  curiosity,  in  the  town  where  his  regi¬ 
ment  was  quartered.  The  presiding  judge,  an  acquain¬ 
tance,  invited  Erskine  to  sit  near  him,  and  said  that  the 
pleaders  at  the  bar  were  among  the  most  eminent  law¬ 
yers  of  Great  Britain.  Erskine  took  their  measure  as 
they  spoke,  and  believed  he  could  excel  them.  He  at 
once  began  the  study  of  law,  in  which  he  soon  stood 
alone  as  the  greatest  forensic  orator  of  his  country. 

A.  T.  Stewart  studied  for  the  ministry,  and  became  a 
teacher,  before  he  drifted  into  his  proper  calling  as  a 
merchant,  through  the  accident  of  having  lent  money 
to  a  friend.  The  latter,  with  failure  imminent,  insisted 
that  his  creditor  should  take  the  shop  as  the  only  means 
of  securing  the  money. 

“Jonathan,”  said  Mr.  Chace,  when  his  son  told  of 
having  nearly  fitted  himself  for  college,  “  thou  shalt  go 
down  to  the  machine-shop  on  Monday  morning.”  It 
was  many  years  before  Jonathan  escaped  from  the  shop, 
to  work  his  way  up  to  the  position  of  a  man  of  great 
influence  as  a  United  States  Senator  from  Rhode 
Island. 

James  Smeaton’s  father  intended  his  son  for  a  law¬ 
yer,  but  Nature  had  marked  her  bias  for  engineering 
upon  every  fibre  of  his  being  too  deep  to  be  erased  by 
his  parents.  He  was  found  one  day  in  petticoats  on 
the  top  of  his  father’s  barn,  fixing  the  model  of  a  wind¬ 
mill  which  he  had  made. 

It  has  been  well  said,  that  if  God  should  commission 
two  angels,  one  to  sweep  a  street  crossing,  and  the  other 
to  rule  an  empire,  they  could  not  be  induced  to  exchange 
callings.  Not  less  true  is  it  that  he  who  feels  that  God 
has  given  him  a  particular  work  to  do  can  be  happy 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES . 


88 


only  when  earnestly  engaged  in  its  performance.  Happy 
the  youth  who  finds  the  place  which  his  dreams  have 
pictured.  If  he  does  not  fill  that  place,  he  will  not  fill 
any  to  the  satisfaction  of  himself  or  others.  A  parent 
might  just  as  well  decide  that  the  magnetic  needle  will 
point  to  Venus  or  Jupiter  without  trying  it,  as  to  de¬ 
cide  what  profession  his  son  shall  adopt. 

In  a  fable  in  Judges  the  fig-tree,  among  others,  was 
invited  to  become  king  over  the  forest.  After  the  olive- 
tree  had  refused  to  give  up  its  fatness  which  “  pleased 
God  and  man,”  to  reign  over  the  trees,  the  fig-tree  re¬ 
plied,  “  Why  should  I  forsake  my  sweetness  and  good 
fruit  and  go  to  be  promoted  over  the  trees  ?  ” 

What  a  rebuke  in  this  beautiful  fable  to  the  thousands 
of  people  who  forsake  the  sweetness  and  richness  of 
their  own  nature  to  do  something  for  which  they  are 
totally  unfitted ! 

As  king  over  the  stalwart  oak  and  lofty  pine,  the  fig- 
tree  would  have  been  a  dead  failure,  and  as  much  out 
of  place  as  some  of  our  politicians  are  in  Congress  ;  but 
for  bearing  figs  the  oak  and  pine  are  its  inferiors. 
Bearing  figs  is  the  grandest  thing  in  the  world  for  a 
fig-tree.  It  shines  in  its  own  sphere ;  but,  stripped  of 
its  fig-bearing  power,  it  has  no  excuse  for  existence. 
Sometimes  a  mother,  who  reigns  a  majestic  queen  in  her 
own  household,  forsakes  her  quiet  sweetness  of  home 
rule  for  a  noisy,  rough,  public  career,  for  which  she  has 
not  the  slightest  qualification. 

What  a  ridiculous  exhibition  a  great  truck-horse 
would  make  on  the  race-track ;  vet  this  is  no  more 
incongruous  than  the  popular  idea  that  law,  medicine, 
and  theology  are  the  only  desirable  professions.  How 
ridiculous,  too,  for  fifty-two  per  cent,  of  our  American 
college  graduates  to  study  law  !  How  many  young  men 
become  poor  clergymen  by  trying  to  imitate  their  fathers, 
who  were  good  ones :  or  poor  doctors  and  lawyers  for 
the  same  reason.  The  country  is  full  of  men  who  are 


84 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

out  of  place,  “  disappointed,  soured,  ruined,  out  of 
office,  out  of  money,  out  of  credit,  out  of  courage,  out 
at  elbows,  out  in  the  cold.”  The  fact  is,  nearly  every 
college  graduate  who  succeeds  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word,  prepares  himself  in  school,  but  makes  himself 
after  he  is  graduated.  The  best  thing  his  teachers  have 
taught  him  is  how  to  study.  The  moment  he  is  beyond 
the  college  walls  he  ceases  to  use  books  and  helps  which 
do  not  feed  him,  and  seizes  upon  those  that  do. 

We  must  not  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  because  a 
man  has  not  succeeded  in  what  he  has  really  tried  to  do 
with  all  his  might,  he  cannot  succeed  at  anything. 
Look  at  a  fish  floundering  on  the  sand  as  though  he 
would  tear  himself  to  pieces.  But  look  again  :  a  huge 
wave  breaks  higher  up  the  beach,  and  covers  the  unfor¬ 
tunate  creature.  The  moment  his  fins  feel  the  water, 
he  is  himself  again,  and  darts  like  a  flash  through  the 
waves.  His  fins  mean  something  now,  while  before 
they  beat  the  air  and  earth  in  vain,  a  hindrance  instead 
of  a  help. 

If  you  fail  after  doing  your  level  best,  examine  the 
work  attempted,  and  see  if  it  really  be  in  the  line  of 
vour  bent  or  power  of  achievement.  Goldsmith  found 
xiimself  totally  unfit  for  the  duties  of  a  physician ;  but 
who  else  could  have  written  the  “  Vicar  of  Wakefield  ” 
or  the  “  Deserted  Village  ”  ?  Cowper  failed  as  a  law¬ 
yer.  He  was  so  timid  that  he  could  not  plead  a  case, 
but  he  wrote  some  of  our  finest  poems.  Moliere  found 
that  he  was  not  adapted*  to  the  work  of  a  lawyer,  but  he 
left  a  great  name  in  literature.  Voltaire  and  Petrarch 
abandoned  the  law,  the  former  choosing  philosophy,  the 
latter,  poetry.  Cromwell  was  a  farmer  until  forty  years 
old 

Very  few  of  us,  before  we  reach  our  teens,  show  great 
genius  or  even  remarkable  talent  for  any  line  of  work 
or  study.  The  great  majority  of  boys  and  girls,  even 
when  given  all  the  latitude  and  longitude  heart  could 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES.  85 

desire,  find  it  very  difficult  before  their  fifteenth  or  even 
before  their  twentieth  year  to  decide  what  to  do  for  a 
living.  Each  knocks  at  the  portals  of  the  mind,  de¬ 
manding  a  wonderful  aptitude  for  some  definite  line  of 
work,  but  it  is  not  there.  That  is  no  reason  why  the 
duty  at  hand  should  be  put  off,  or  why  the  labor  that 
naturally  falls  to  one’s  lot  should  not  be  done  well 
Samuel  Smiles  was  trained  to  a  profession  which  was 
not  to  his  taste,  yet  he  practiced  it  so  faithfully  that  it 
helped  him  to  authorship,  for  which  he  was  well  fitted. 
Fidelity  to  the  work  at  hand,  and  a  genuine  feeling  of 
responsibility  to  our  parents  or  our  employers,  our¬ 
selves,  and  our  God,  will  eventually  bring  most  of  us 
into  the  right  niches  at  the  proper  time. 

Garfield  would  not  have  become  President  if  he  had 
not  previously  been  a  zealous  teacher,  a  responsible  sol¬ 
dier,  a  conscientious  statesman.  Neither  Lincoln  nor 
Grant  started  as  a  baby  with  a  precocity  for  the  White 
House,  or  an  irresistible  genius  for  ruling  men.  So  no 
one  should  be  disappointed  because  he  was  not  endowed 
with  tremendous  gifts  in  the  cradle.  His  business  is  to 
do  the  best  he  can,  wherever  his  lot  may  be  cast,  and 
advance  at  every  honorable  opportunity  in  the  direction 
towards  which  the  inward  monitor  points.  Let  duty  be 
the  guiding-star,  and  success  will  surely  be  the  crown, 
to  the  full  measure  of  one’s  ability  and  industry. 

Most  work  is  uncongenial,  and  the  great  majority  of 
men  and  women  think  they  would  be  happier  in  some 
other  place.  To  almost  every  one  the  day  of  choice 
comes.  What  career  ?  What  shall  my  life’s  work  be  ? 
If  instinct  and  heart  ask  for  carpentry,  be  a  carpenter ; 
if  for  medicine,  be  a  physician.  With  a  firm  choice  and 
earnest  work,  a  young  man  or  woman  cannot  help  but 
succeed.  But  if  there  be  no  instinct,  or  if  it  be  weak 
or  faint,  one  should  choose  cautiously  along  the  line  of 
his  best  adaptability  and  opportunity.  No  one  need 
doubt  that  the  world  has  use  for  him,  but  great  honor 


8G 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


and  fortune  are  not  for  all.  True  success  lies  in  acting 
well  your  part,  and  this  every  one  can  do.  Better  be  a 
first-rate  hod-carrier  than  a  second-rate  anything. 

The  world  has  been  very  kind  to  many  who  were  once  j 
known  as  dunces  or  blockheads,  after  they  have  become  8 
very  successful ;  but  it  was  very  cross  to  them  while  i 
they  were  struggling  through  discouragement  and  mis-  8 
interpretation.  Such  lives  do  not  show,  however,  that  [ 
a  numskull  is  sure  to  climb  to  the  top.  Because  the 
last  boy  in  his  class  became  the  great  Henry  Ward  t 
Beecher,  there  is  no  reason  to  conclude  that  the  last  i 
boy  in  the  next  class,  or  the  next,  must  become  any-  1 
thing  great  at  all.  There  must  be  some  life  in  the  boy,  i 
or  he  will  not  rise  under  any  circumstances  until  the  1 
day  appointed  for  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  If  he  ( 
starts  out  in  life  as  a  failure,  he  will  end  as  one,  unless  J 
he  gets  thoroughly  waked  up  in  some  way.  Give  every  i 
boy  and  girl  a  fair  chance  and  reasonable  encourage¬ 
ment,  and  do  not  condemn  them  because  of  even  a  large  i 
degree  of  downright  stupidity  ;  for  many  so-called  good-  1 
for-nothing  boys,  blockheads,  numskulls,  dullards,  or 
dunces,  were  only  boys  out  of  their  places,  round  boys  i 
forced  into  square  holes. 

“  Let  us  people  who  are  so  uncommonly  clever  and 
learned,”  says  Thackeray,  “have  a  great  tenderness  and 
pity  for  the  folks  who  are  not  endowed  with  the  prodi¬ 
gious  talents  which  we  have.  I  have  always  had  a  re¬ 
gard  tor  dunces,  —  those  of  my  own  school  days  were 
among  the  pleasantest  of  the  fellows,  and  have  turned 
out  by  no  means  the  dullest  in  life ;  whereas,  many  a 
youth  who  could  turn  off  Latin  hexameters  by  the  yard, 
and  construe  Greek  quite  glibly,  is  no  better  than  a  fee¬ 
ble  prig  now,  with  not  a  pennyworth  more  brains  than 
were  in  his  head  before  his  beard  grew.” 

George  Stephenson,  at  twenty  years  of  age,  could  nei« 
tlier  read  nor  write,  yet  his  name  is  inseparably  linked 
with  the  introduction  and  development  of  railways. 


1 


ROUND  BOYS  IN  SQUARE  HOLES. 


87 


Wellington  was  considered  a  dunce  by  his  mother. 
At  Eton  he  was  called  dull,  idle,  slow,  and  was  about 
the  last  boy  in  school  of  whom  anything  was  expected. 
He  showed  no  talent,  and  had  no  desire  to  enter  the 
army.  His  industry  and  perseverance  were  his  only 
redeeming  characteristics,  in  the  eyes  of  his  parents 
and  teachers.  But  at  forty-six  he  had  defeated  the 
greatest  general  living,  except  himself. 

Goldsmith  was  the  laughing-stock  of  his  schoolmas¬ 
ters.  He  was  graduated  “  Wooden  Spoon,”  a  college 
name  for  a  dunce.  He  tried  to  enter  a  class  in  surgery, 
but  was  rejected.  He  was  driven  to  literature.  Hr. 
Johnson  found  him  very  poor  and  about  to  be  arrested 
for  debt.  He  made  Goldsmith  give  him  the  manuscript 
of  the  “  Vicar  of  Wakefield,”  sold  it  to  the  publishers, 
and  paid  the  debt.  This  manuscript  made  its  author 
famous. 

J ohn  Harvard  was  called  a  boy  of  no  promise,  but  he 
founded  Harvard  College,  and  became  one  of  the  real 
benefactors  of  the  race. 

Robert  Clive  bore  the  name  of  “  dunce  ”  and  “  repro¬ 
bate  ”  at  school,  but  at  thirty-two,  with  three  thousand 
men,  he  defeated  fifty  thousand  at  Plassey  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  British  Empire  in  India.  Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  called  a  blockhead  by  his  teacher.  When 
Byron  happened  to  get  ahead  of  his  class,  the  master 
would  say :  “Now,  Jordie,  let  me  see  how  soon  you  will 
be  at  the  foot  again.”  Sheridan’s  mother  tried  in  vain 
to  teach  him  the  most  elementary  studies.  Her  death 
aroused  his  slumbering  talents,  as  has  happened  in  hun 
dreds  of  cases,  and  he  became  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
men  of  his  age.  Hr.  Chalmers  was  expelled  from  St. 
Andrews  school  because  of  his  stupidity. 

Hr.  Isaac  Barrow  Avas  such  a  dullard  that  his  father 
said,  “  If  it  is  God’s  will  to  take  any  of  my  children  by 
death,  I  hope  it  may  be  Isaac.”  “  Why  do  you  tell  that 
blockhead  the  same  thing  twenty  times  over  ?  ”  asked 


88 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


John  Wesley’s  father.  “  Because/’  replied  his  mother, 
“if  I  had  told  him  but  nineteen  times,  all  my  labor 
would  have  been  lost,  while  now  he  will  understand  and 
remember.” 

Young  Linnaeus  was  called  by  his  teachers  almost  a 
blockhead.  Not  finding  him  fit  for  the  church,  his  par¬ 
ents  sent  him  to  college  to  study  medicine.  But  the 
silent  teacher  within,  greater  and  wiser  than  all  others, 
led  him  to  the  fields ;  and  neither  sickness,  misfortune, 
nor  poverty  could  drive  him  from  the  study  of  botany, 
the  choice  of  his  heart,  and  he  became  the  greatest  bot¬ 
anist  of  his  age. 

Samuel  Drew  was  one  of  the  dullest  and  most  listless 
boys  in  his  neighborhood,  yet  after  an  accident  by  which 
he  nearly  lost  his  life,  and  after  the  death  of  his  brother, 
he  became  so  studious  and  industrious  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  lose  a  moment.  He  read  at  every  meal,  using 
all  the  time  he  could  get  for  self-improvement.  He  said 
that  Paine’s  “  Age  of  Reason  ”  made  him  an  author,  for  it 
was  by  his  attempt  to  refute  its  arguments  that  he  was 
first  known  as  a  strong,  vigorous  writer. 

We  live  in  a  superficial  age,  and  we  hurry  along  in  a 
happy-go-lucky  way,  ignorant  or  heedless  of  the  capa¬ 
cities  of  our  minds  and  bodies.  The  precocious  youth, 
the  boy  or  girl  of  average  intelligence,  or  the  dunce, 
should  alike  study  his  own  strength,  his  weakness,  his 
likes,  his  dislikes,  his  bent.  “  Know  thyself,”  was 
spoken  of  old  at  Delphi ;  and,  though  the  oracle  has  long 
been  mute,  the  words  are  of  eternal  significance.  No 
better  advice  was  ever  given  to  man.  Philosophy 
finds  its  highest  province  in  the  study  of  our  own  na¬ 
tures.  Knowledge  thus  gained,  and  that  alone,  will 
teach  the  round  boy  to  avoid  the  square  holes  as  he 
would  shun  falsehood  and  dishonor.  It  has  been  well 
said  that  no  man  ever  made  an  ill  figure  who  understood 
his  own  talents,  nor  a  good  one  who  mistook  them. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


WHAT  CAREER? 

Brutes  find  out  where  their  talents  lie; 

A  bear  will  not  attempt  to  fly, 

A  foundered  horse  will  oft  debate 
Before  he  tries  a  five-barred  gate. 

A  dog  by  instinct  turns  aside 
Who  sees  the  ditch  too  deep  and  wide. 

But  man  we  find  the  only  creature 
Who,  led  by  folly,  combats  nature ; 

Who,  when  she  loudly  cries — forbear! 

With  obstinacy  fixes  there ; 

And  where  his  genius  least  inclines, 

Absurdly  bends  his  whole  designs. 

Swift. 

The  crowning  fortune  of  a  man  is  to  be  born  to  some  pursuit  which  finds 
him  in  employment  and  happiness,  whether  it  be  to  make  baskets,  or  broad¬ 
swords,  or  canals,  or  statues,  or  songs.  —  Emerson. 

And  he  who  waits  to  have  his  task  marked  out, 

Shall  die  and  leave  his  errand  unfulfilled. 

Lowell. 

Whatever  you  are  bv  nature,  keep  to  it;  never  desert  your  line  of  talent. 
Be  what  nature  intended  you  for,  and  you  will  succeed;  be  anything  else, 
and  you  will  be  ten  thousand  times  worse  than  nothing.  —  Sydney  Smith. 

In  the  measure  in  which  thou  seekest  to  do  thy  duty  shalt  thou  know 
what  is  in  thee.  But  what  is  thy  duty?  The  demand  of  the  hour. — 
Goethe. 

Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long, 

And  so  make  life,  death,  and  the  vast  forever,  one  grand,  sweet  song. 

Charles  Kingsley. 


“Every  man  has  got  a  Fort,”  said  Artemus  Ward. 
“It’s  some  men’s  fort  to  do  one  thing,  and  some  other 
men’s  fort  to  do  another,  while  there  is  numeris  shiftless 
critters  goin’  round  loose  whose  fort  is  not  to  do  nothin. 

“  Twice  I ’ve  endevered  to  do  things  which  they 
wasn’t  my  Fort.  The  first  time  was  when  I  undertook 
to  lick  a  owdaslius  cuss  who  cut  a  hole  in  my  tent  and 


90 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


krawld  threw.  Sez  I,  ‘My  jentle  sir,  go  out,  or  I  shall 
fall  onto  you  putty  Levy.’  Sez  he,  ‘Wade  in,  Old  Wax 
Figgers/  whereupon  I  went  for  him,  but  he  cawt  me 
powerful  on  the  hed  and  knoekt  me  threw  the  tent  into 
a  cow  pastur.  He  pursood  the  attack  and  flung  me  into 
a  mud  puddle.  As  I  aroze  and  rung  out  my  drencht 
garmints,  I  concluded  fitin  was  n’t  my  fort.  I  ’le  now 
rize  the  curtain  upon  seen  2nd.  It  is  rarely  seldum 
that  I  seek  consolation  in  the  Flowin  Bole.  But  in  a 
certain  town  in  Injianny  in  the  Faul  of  18 — ,  my  orgin 
grinder  got  sick  with  the  fever  and  died.  I  never  felt 
so  ashamed  in  my  life,  and  I  thought  I ’d  hist  in  a  few 
swallers  of  suthin  strengthnin.  Konsequents  was,  I 
histed  so  much  I  did  n’t  zacklv  know  whereabouts  I  was. 

%j 

I  turned  my  livin  wild  beasts  of  Bray  loose  into  the 
streets,  and  split  all  my  wax-works.  I  then  Bet  I  cood 
play  lioss.  So  I  hitched  myself  to  a  kanawl  bote,  there 
bein  two  other  hosses  behind  and  anuther  ahead  of  me. 
But  the  hosses  bfiin  onused  to  such  a  arrangemunt,  be¬ 
gun  to  kick  and  squeal  and  rair  up.  Konsequents  was. 
I  was  kicked  vilently  in  the  stummuck  and  back,  and 
presently,  I  found  myself  in  the  kanawl  with  the  other 
hosses,  kikin  and  yellin  like  a  tribe  of  Cusscaroorus  sav- 
ajis.  I  was  rescood,  and  as  I  was  bein  carried  to  the 
tavern  on  a  hemlock  bored  I  sed  in  a  feeble  voice, 
*  Boys,  playin  lioss  is  n’t  my  Fort.’ 

“  Moral :  Never  don't  do  nothin  which  is  n't  your  Fort , 
for  ef  you  do  you  'll  find  yourself  splashin  round  in  the 
kanawl,  figgeratively  speakin." 

The  following  advertisement,  which  appeared  day 
after  day  in  a  Western  paper,  did  not  bring  a  single 
reply :  — 

“Wanted. —  Situation  by  a  Practical  Printer,  who 
is  competent  to  take  charge  of  any  department  in  a 
printing  and  publishing  house.  Would  accept  a  profes¬ 
sorship  in  any  of  the  academies.  Has  no  objection  to 
teach  ornamental  painting  and  penmanship,  geometry, 


WHAT  CAREER ? 


91 

trigonometry,  and  many  other  sciences.  Has  had  some 
experience  as  a  lay  preacher.  Would  have  no  objection 
to  form  a  small  class  of  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  to 
instruct  them  in  the  higher  branches.  To  a  dentist  or 
chiropodist  he  would  be  invaluable ;  or  he  would  cheer¬ 
fully  accept  a  position  as  bass  or  tenor  singer  in  a  choir.” 

At  length  there  appeared  this  addition  to  the  no¬ 
tice  :  — 

P.  S.  Will  accept  an  offer  to  saw  and  split  wood  at 
less  than  the  usual  rates.”  This  secured  a  situation  at 
once,  and  the  advertisement  was  seen  no  more. 

Your  talent  is  your  call.  Your  legitimate  destiny 
speaks  in  your  character. 

If  you  have  found  your  place,  your  occupation  has  the 
consent  of  every  faculty  of  your  being. 

If  possible,  choose  that  occupation  which  focuses  the 
largest  amount  of  your  experience  and  tastes.  You  will 
then  not  only  have  a  congenial  vocation,  but  will  utilize 
largely  your  skill  and  business  knowledge,  which  is  your 
true  capital. 

Follow  your  bent.  You  cannot  long  fight  successfully 
against  your  aspirations.  Parents,  friends,  or  misfor¬ 
tune  may  stifle  and  suppress  the  longings  of  the  heart, 
by  compelling  you  to  perform  unwelcome  tasks  ;  but,  like 
a  volcano,  the  inner  fire  will  burst  the  crusts  which  con¬ 
fine  it  and  pour  forth  its  pent-up  genius  in  eloquence,  in 
song,  in  art,  or  in  some  favorite  industry.  Beware  of  “  a 
talent  which  you  cannot  hope  to  practice  in  perfection.” 
Nature  hates  all  botched  and  half-finished  work,  and 
will  pronounce  her  curse  upon  it. 

Better  be  the  Napoleon  of  bootblacks,  or  the  Alexan¬ 
der  of  chimney-sweeps,  let  us  say  with  Matthew  Arnold, 
than  a  shallow-brained  attorney  who,  like  necessity, 
knows  no  law. 

“  The  ignorance  of  men  who  know  not  for  what  time 
and  to  what  thing  they  be  fit,”  said  Roger  Ascham, 
“  causeth  some  to  wish  themselves  rich  for  whom  it  were 


92 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


better  a  great  deal  to  be  poor ;  some  to  desire  to  be  in 
the  court,  which  be  born  and  be  fitter  rather  for  the  cart ; 
some  to  be  masters  and  rule  others,  who  never  yet  began 
to  rule  themselves  ;  some  to  teach,  which  rather  should 
learn  ;  some  to  be  priests,  which  were  fitter  to  be  clerks.”  i 
Half  the  world  seems  to  have  found  uncongenial 
occupation,  as  if  the  human  race  had  been  shaken  up 
together  and  exchanged  places  in  the  operation.  A  ser¬ 
vant  girl  is  trying  to  teach,  and  a  natural  teacher  is  tend-  ' 
ing  store.  Good  farmers  are  murdering  the  law,  while 
Choates  and  Websters  are  running  down  farms,  each 
tortured  by  the  consciousness  of  unfulfilled  destiny. 
Boys  are  pining  in  factories  who  should  be  wrestling 
with  Greek  and  Latin,  and  hundreds  are  chafing  beneath 
unnatural  loads  in  college  who  should  be  on  the  farm  or 
before  the  mast.  Artists  are  spreading  “  daubs  ”  on 
canvas  who  should  be  whitewashing  board  fences.  Be¬ 
hind  counters  stand  clerks  who  hate  the  yard-stick,  and 
neglect  their  work  to  dream  of  other  occupations.  A 
good  shoemaker  writes  a  few  verses  for  the  village  paper, 
his  friends  call  him  a  poet,  and  the  last,  with  which 
he  is  familiar,  is  abandoned  for  the  pen  which  he  uses 
awkwardly.  Other  shoemakers  are  cobbling  in  Con¬ 
gress,  while  statesmen  are  pounding  shoe-lasts.  Laymen 
are  murdering  sermons  while  Beechers  and  Whitefields 
are  failing  as  merchants,  and  people  are  wondering 
what  can  be  the  cause  of  empty  pews.  A  boy  who 
is  always  making  something  with  tools  is  railroaded 
through  the  university  and  started  on  the  road  to  infe¬ 
riority  in  one  of  the  three  honorable  professions.  Beal 
surgeons  are  handling  the  meat-saw  and  cleaver,  while 
butchers  are  amputating  human  limbs.  How  fortunate 
that  — 

“  There ’s  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 

Rough-hew  them  how  we  will” 

He  that  hath  a  trade,”  says  Franklin,  “  hath  an  es¬ 
tate  ;  and  he  that  hath  a  calling  hath  a  place  of  profit 


WHAT  CAREER ?  93 

and  honor.  A  ploughman  on  his  legs  is  higher  than  a 
gentleman  on  his  knees.”  * 

A  man’s  business  does  more  to  make  him  than  any¬ 
thing  else.  It  hardens  his  muscles,  strengthens  his 
body,  quickens  his  blood,  sharpens  his  mind,  corrects 
his  judgment,  wakes  up  his  inventive  genius,  puts  his 
wits  to  work,  starts  him  on  the  race  of  life,  arouses  his 
ambition,  makes  him  feel  that  he  is  a  man  and  must  fill 
a  man’s  shoes,  do  a  man’s  work,  bear  a  man’s  part  in 
life,  and  show  himself  a  man  in  that  part.  No  man  feels 
himself  a  man  who  is  not  doing  a  man’s  business.  A 
man  without  employment  is  not  a  man.  He  does  not 
prove  by  his  works  that  he  is  a  man.  A  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  of  bone  and  muscle  do  not  make  a  man.  A 
good  cranium  full  of  brains  is  not  a  man.  The  bone 
and  muscle  and  brain  must  know  how  to  do  a  man’s 
work,  think  a  man’s  thoughts,  mark  out  a  man’s  path, 
and  bear  a  man’s  weight  of  character  and  duty  before 
they  constitute  a  man. 

“No  man  is  fit  to  win,”  says  Bulwer,  “who  has  not 
sat  down  alone  to  think ;  and  who  has  not  come  forth 
with  purpose  in  his  eye,  with  white  cheeks,  set  lips,  and 
clenched  palms,  able  to  say :  ‘  I  am  resolved  what  to 
do.’  ” 

Go-at-it-iveness  is  the  first  requisite  for  success. 
Stick-to-it-iveness  is  the  second.  Under  ordinary  cir¬ 
cumstances,  and  with  practical  common  sense  to  guide 
him,  one  who  has  these  requisites  will  not  fail. 

Don’t  wait  for  a  higher  position  or  a  larger  salary. 
Enlarge  the  position  you  already  occupy ;  put  originality 
of  method  into  it.  Bill  it  as  it  never  was  filled  before. 
Be  more  prompt,  more  energetic,  more  thorough,  more 
polite  than  your  predecessor  or  fellow  workmen.  Study 
your  business,  devise  new  modes  of  operation,  be  able 
to  give  your  employer  points.  The  art  lies  not  in  giv¬ 
ing  satisfaction  merely,  not  in  simply  filling  your  place, 
Out  in  doing  better  than  was  expected,  in  surprising 


94 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


your  employer ;  and  the  reward  will  be  a  better  place 
and  a  larger  salary. 

When  out  of  work,  take  the  first  respectable  job 
that  offers,  heeding  not  the  disproportion  between  your 
faculties  and  your  task.  If  you  put  your  manhood 
into  your  labor,  you  will  soon  be  given  something  better 

to  do. 

One  of  the  saddest  sights  is  that  of  a  young  man  who, 
without  ever  having  asked  himself  if  he  possessed  suffi¬ 
cient  strength  of  nerve  to  endure  the  strain  of  an  intel¬ 
lectual  career,  has  been  graduated  heavily  in  debt,  and 
has  sacrificed  what  little  health  and  constitution  he  had 
for  a  college  course.  No  one  told  him  that,  even  if  he 
should  obtain  his  degree,  he  would  be  totally  unfitted 
to  excel  in  intellectual  pursuits,  and  would  be  doomed 
to  perpetual  mediocrity.  He  thought  that  if  he  could 
only  get  through  college,  even  if  he  were  broken  in 
health  and  in  purse,  he  could  get  on  somehow.  He  is 
no  longer  content  with  his  former  lot,  his  ambition  is 
poisoned  by  visions  of  impossible  goals,  his  vitality  ex¬ 
hausted,  his  energies  scattered,  and  so  the  youth  who 
might  have  become  a  useful  farmer  or  a  skillful  me¬ 
chanic,  staggers  under  his  load  of  pecuniary  obligation, 
ill  health,  and  unsatisfied  ambition,  until  death  relieves 
him  of  his  misery. 

This  question  of  a  right  aim  in  life  has  become  ex¬ 
ceedingly  perplexing  in  our  complicated  age.  It  is  not 
a  difficult  problem  to  solve  when  one  is  the  son  of  a 
Zulu  or  the  daughter  of  a  Bedouin.  The  condition  of 
the  savage  hardly  admits  of  but  one  choice ;  but  as  one 
rises  higher  in  the  scale  of  civilization  and  creeps 
nearer  to  the  great  centres  of  activity,  the  difficulty  of 
a  correct  decision  increases  with  its  importance.  In 
proportion  as  one  is  hard  pressed  in  competition  is  it  of 
the  sternest  necessity  for  him  to  choose  the  right  aim 
so  as  to  be  able  to  throw  the  whole  of  his  energy  and 
enthusiasm  into  the  struggle  for  success.  The  dissipa 


WHAT  CAREER  ? 


95 


tion  of  strength  or  hope  is  fatal  to  prosperity  even  in 
the  most  attractive  field. 

Gladstone  says  there  is  a  limit  to  the  work  that  can 
be  got  out  of  a  human  body,  or  a  human  brain,  and  he 
is  a  wise  man  who  wastes  no  energy  on  pursuits  for 
which  he  is  not  fitted. 

“  Blessed  is  he  who  has  found  his  work/’  says  Carlyle. 
“  Bet  him  ask  no  other  blessedness.  He  has  a  work  — 
a  life  purpose ;  he  has  found  it,  and  will  follow  it.” 

In  choosing  an  occupation  do  not  ask  yourself  how 
you  can  make  the  most  money  or  gain  the  most  noto- 
riety,  but  choose  that  work  which  will  call  out  all  your 
powers  and  develop  your  manhood  into  the  greatest 
strength  and  symmetry.  Not  money,  not  notoriety,  not 
fame  even,  but  power  is  what  you  want.  Manhood  is 
greater  than  wealth,  grander  than  fame.  Character  is 
greater  than  any  career.  Each  faculty  must  be  edu¬ 
cated,  and  any  deficiency  in  its  training  will  appear  in 
whatever  you  do.  The  hand  must  be  educated  to  be 
graceful,  steady,  and  strong.  The  eye  must  be  educated 
to  be  alert,  discriminating,  and  microscopic.  The  heart 
must  be  educated  to  be  tender,  sympathetic,  and  true. 
The  memory  must  be  drilled  for  years  in  accuracy,  re¬ 
tention,  and  comprehensiveness.  The  world  does  not 
demand  that  you  be  a  lawyer,  minister,  doctor,  farmer, 
scientist,  or  merchant.  It  does  not  dictate  what  you 
shall  do,  but  it  does  require  that  you  be  a  master  in 
whatever  you  undertake.  If  you  are  a  master  in  your 
line,  the  world  will  applaud  you  and  all  doors  will  fly 
open  to  you.  But  the  world  condemns  all  botches,  abor¬ 
tions,  and  failures. 

“Whoever  is  well  educated  to  discharge  the  duty  of 
a  man,”  says  Rousseau,  “  cannot  be  badly  prepared  to 
fill  any  of  those  offices  that  have  relation  to  him.  It 
matters  little  to  me  Avhether  my  pupils  be  designed  for 
the  army,  the  pulpit,  or  the  bar.  Nature  has  destined  us 
to  the  offices  of  human  life  antecedent  to  our  destination 


96 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


concerning  society.  To  live  is  the  profession  I  would 
teach  him.  When  I  have  clone  with  him,  it  is  true  he 
will  be  neither  a  soldier,  a  lawyer,  nor  a  divine.  Let 
him  first  be  a  man.  Fortune  may  remove  him  from  one 
rank  to  another  as  she  pleases ;  he  will  be  always  found 
in  his  place.” 

In  1744,  at  the  treaty  of  the  government  of  Virginia 
with  the  Six  Nations  at  Lancaster,  Pa.,  the  Indians 
were  invited  to  send  six  youths  to  Williamsburg  Col¬ 
lege  to  be  educated  free. 

It  is  a  rule  of  Indian  courtesy  not  to  answer  impor¬ 
tant  questions  on  the  day  they  are  asked.  After  delib¬ 
erating  they  declined  the  invitation.  They  said  that 
they  had  sent  several  young  men  to  the  colleges  of  the 
northern  provinces  ;  and,  when  they  returned,  they  were 
poor  runners,  ignorant  of  how  to  get  a  living  in  the 
woods,  could  not  bear  cold  or  hunger,  could  not  build  a 
cabin,  take  a  deer,  or  kill  an  enemy,  and  spoke  their 
own  language  badly.  They  were  not  fit  for  hunters, 
warriors,  or  councilors  ;  they  were  totally  good  for  no¬ 
thing.  “If  the  gentlemen  of  Virginia  will  send  us  a 
dozen  of  their  sons,  we  will  take  great  care  of  their  edu¬ 
cation,  instruct  them  in  all  we  know,  and  make  men  of 
them.” 

In  the  great  race  of  life  common  sense  has  the  right 
of  way.  Wealth,  a  diploma,  a  pedigree,  talent,  genius, 
without  tact  and  common  sense,  cut  but  a  small  figure. 
The  incapables  and  the  impracticables,  though  loaded 
with  diplomas  and  degrees,  are  left  behind.  Not  what 
do  you  know,  or  who  are  you,  but  what  can  you  do,  is 
the  interrogation  of  the  century. 

George  Herbert  has  well  said :  “  What  we  are  is  much 
more  to  us  than  what  we  do.”  An  aim  that  carries  in 
it  the  least  element  of  doubt  as  to  its  justice  or  honor 
or  right  should  be  abandoned  at  once.  The  art  of  dish¬ 
ing  up  the  wrong  so  as  to  make  it  look  and  taste  like 
the  right,  has  never  been  more  extensively  cultivated 


WHAT  CAREER ? 


97 

than  in  our  day.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  reason  will, 
on  pressure,  overcome  a  man’s  instinct  of  right.  An 
eminent  scientist  has  said  that  a  man  could  soon  reason 
himself  out  of  the  instinct  of  decency  if  he  would  only 
take  pains  and  work  hard  enough.  So  when  a  doubt¬ 
ful  but  attractive  future  is  placed  before  one,  there  is  a 
great  temptation  to  juggle  with  the  wrong  until  it  seems 
the  right,  just  as  Hermann  or  Keller  apparently  changes 
a  rabbit  into  an  omelet.  Yet  any  aim  that  is  immoral 
carries  in  itself  the  germ  of  certain  failure,  in  the  real 
sense  of  the  word  —  failure  that  is  physical  and  spir¬ 
itual. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  every  person  has  a  special 
adaptation  for  his  own  peculiar  part  in  life.  A  very 
few  —  the  geniuses,  we  call  them — have  this  marked 
in  an  unusual  degree,  and  very  early  in  life. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  engrossed  in  political  philos¬ 
ophy  at  an  age  when  other  girls  are  dressing  dolls. 
Mozart,  when  but  four  years  old,  played  the  clavichord, 
and  composed  minuets  and  other  pieces  still  extant. 
The  little  Chalmers  would  preach  often  from  a  stool  in 
the  nursery,  with  solemn  air  and  earnest  gestures. 
Goethe  wrote  tragedies  at  twelve,  and  Grotius  published 
an  able  philosophical  work  before  he  was  fifteen.  Pope 
“  lisped  in  numbers.”  Chatterton  wrote  good  poems  at 
eleven,  and  Cowley  published  a  volume  of  poetry  in  his 
sixteenth  year.  Thomas  Lawrence  and  Benjamin  West 
drew  likenesses  almost  as  soon  as  they  could  walk. 
Liszt  played  in  public  at  twelve.  Canova  made  models 
in  clay  while  a  mere  child.  Bacon  exposed  the  defects 
of  Aristotle’s  philosophy  when  but  sixteen.  Napoleon 
was  at  the  head  of  armies  when  throwing  snowballs  at 
Brienne.  Kean  played  Shylock  the  first  night  almost 
as  well  as  he  ever  did. 

All  these  showed  their  bent  while  young,  and  fol¬ 
lowed  it  in  active  life.  But  precocity  is  not  common, 
and,  except  in  rare  cases,  we  must  discover  the  bias  in 


98  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

our  natures,  and  not  wait  for  the  proclivity  to  make 
itself  manifest.  When  found,  it  is  worth  more  to  us 
than  a  vein  of  gold. 

“It  is  a  vain  thought/ ”  said  George  Eliot,  “to  flee 
from  the  work  that  God  appoints  us,  for  the  sake  of 
finding  a  greater  blessing  to  our  own  souls,  as  if  we 
could  choose  for  ourselves  where  we  shall  find  the  full¬ 
ness  of  the  Divine  Presence,  instead  of  seeking  it  where 
alone  it  can  be  found,  —  in  loving  obedience.” 

“  I  do  not  forbid  you  to  preach,”  said  a  Bishop  to  a 
young  clergyman,  “  but  nature  does.” 

“  The  age  has  no  aversion  to  preaching  as  such,”  said 
Phillips  Brooks,  “  it  may  not  listen  to  your  preaching.” 
But  though  it  may  not  listen  to  your  preaching,  it  will 
wear  your  boots,  or  buy  your  flour,  or  see  stars  through 
your  telescope.  It  has  a  use  for  every  person,  and  it  is 
his  business  to  find  out  what  that  use  is. 

Lowell  said :  “  It  is  the  vain  endeavor  to  make  our¬ 
selves  what  we  are  not,  that  has  strewn  history  with  so 
many  broken  purposes,  and  lives  left  in  the  rough.” 

You  have  not  found  your  place  until  all  your  facul¬ 
ties  are  roused,  and  your  whole  nature  consents  and  ap¬ 
proves  of  the  work  you  are  doing;  not  until  you  are  so 
enthusiastic  in  it  that  you  take  it  to  bed  with  you.  You 
may  be  forced  to  drudge  at  uncongenial  toil  for  a  time, 
but  emancipate  yourself  as  soon  as  possible.  Carey,  the 
“  Consecrated  Cobbler,”  before  he  went  as  a  missionary 
said :  “  My  business  is  to  preach  the  gospel.  I  cobble 
shoes  to  pay  expenses.” 

If  your  vocation  be  a  humble  one,  elevate  it  with  more 
manhood  than  others  put  into  it.  Put  into  it  brains 
and  heart  and  energy  and  economy.  Broaden  it  by  ori¬ 
ginality  of  methods.  Extend  it  by  enterprise  and  in¬ 
dustry.  Study  it  as  you  would  a  profession.  Learn 
everything  that  is  to  be  known  about  it.  Concentrate 
your  faculties  upon  it,  for  the  greatest  achievements 
are  reserved  for  the  man  of  single  aim,  in  whom  no 


WHA  T  CA  REER  f  99 

rival  powers  divide  the  empire  of  the  soul.  Better 
adorn  your  own  than  seek  another’’ s  place. 

Go  to  the  bottom  of  your  business  if  you  would  climb 
to  the  top.  Nothing  is  small  which  concerns  your 
business.  Master  every  detail.  This  was  the  secret  of 
A.  T.  Stewart’s  and  of  John  Jacob  Astor’s  great  suc¬ 
cess.  They  knew  everything  about  their  business. 

As  to  the  responsibility  for  our  environments  which 
has  troubled  great  minds  in  all  ages,  and  as  to  what  we 
shall  do,  a  noted  clergyman  says  :  “  You  are  not  respon¬ 
sible  for  your  parentage,  or  grand-parentage.  You  are 
not  responsible  for  any  of  the  cranks  that  may  have 
lived  in  your  ancestral  line,  and  who  a  hundred  years 
before  you  were  born  may  have  lived  a  style  of  life 
that  more  or  less  affects  you  to-day.  You  are  not  re¬ 
sponsible  for  the  fact  that  your  temperament  is  san¬ 
guine,  or  melancholic,  or  bilious,  or  lymphatic,  or  ner¬ 
vous.  Neither  are  you  responsible  for  the  place  of 
your  nativity,  whether  among  the  granite  hills  of  New 
England,  or  the  cotton  plantations  of  Louisiana,  or  on 
the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  or  the  Dnieper,  or  the  Shannon, 
or  the  Seine.  Neither  are  you  responsible  for  the  re¬ 
ligion  taught  in  your  father’s  house,  or  for  his  religion. 
Do  not  bother  yourself  about  what  you  cannot  help,  or 
about  circumstances  that  you  did  not  decree.  Take 
things  as  they  are  and  decide  the  question  so  that  you 
shall  be  able  safely  to  say :  *  To  this  end  was  I  born.’ 
How  will  you  decide  it  ?  By  direct  application  to  the 
only  Being  in  the  universe  who  is  competent  to  tell  you 
• — the  Lord  Almighty.” 

As  love  is  the  only  excuse  for  marriage,  and  the  only 
thing  which  will  carry  one  safely  through  the  troubles 
and  vexations  of  married  life,  so  love  for  an  occupation 
is  the  only  thing  which  will  carry  one  safely  and  surely 
through  the  troubles  which  overwhelm  ninety-live  out 
of  every  one  hundred  who  choose  the  life  of  a  merchant, 
End  very  many  in  every  other  career. 


100 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


A  famous  Englishman  said  to  his  nephew,  “  Don’t 
choose  medicine,  for  we  have  never  had  a  murderer  in 
our  family,  and  the  chances  are  that  in  your  ignorance 
you  may  kill  a  patient ;  as  to  the  law,  no  prudent  man 
is  willing  to  risk  his  life  or  his  fortune  to  a  young  law¬ 
yer,  who  has  not  only  no  experience,  but  is  generally 
too  conceited  to  know  the  risks  he  incurs  for  his  client, 
who  alone  is  the  loser;  therefore,  as  the  mistakes  of 
a  clergyman  in  doctrine  or  advice  to  his  parishioners 
cannot  be  clearly  determined  in  this  world,  I  advise 
you  by  all  means  to  enter  the  church.” 

“  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  world  to  do  something,  and 
thought  I  must,”  said  Whittier,  thus  giving  the  secret 
of  his  great  power.  It  is  the  man  who  must  enter  law, 
literature,  medicine,  the  ministry,  or  any  other  of  the 
overstocked  professions,  who  will  succeed.  His  certain 
call,  that  is  liis  love  for  it,  and  his  fidelity  to  it,  are  the 
imperious  factors  of  his  career.  If  a  man  enters  a  pro¬ 
fession  simply  because  his  grandfather  made  a  great 
name  in  it,  or  his  mother  wants  him  to,  with  no  love  or 
adaptability  for  it,  it  were  far  better  for  him  to  be  a 
motor-man  on  an  electric  car  at  one  dollar  and  seventy- 
five  cents  a  day.  In  the  humbler  work,  his  intelligence 
may  make  him  a  leader;  in  the  other  career  he  might 
do  as  much  harm  as  a  boulder  rolled  from  its  place 
upon  a  railroad  track,  a  menace  to  the  next  express. 

Only  a  few  years  ago  marriage  was  the  only  “  sphere  ” 
open  to  girls,  and  the  single  woman  had  to  face  the  dis¬ 
approval  of  her  friends.  Lessing  said :  “  The  woman 
who  thinks  is  like  a  man  who  puts  on  rouge,  ridicu¬ 
lous.”  Not  many  years  have  elapsed  since  the  ambi¬ 
tious  woman  who  ventured  to  study  or  write  would  keep 
a  bit  of  embroidery  at  hand  to  throw  over  her  book  or 
manuscript  when  callers  entered.  Hr.  Johnson  likened 
a  woman  speaking  to  a  dog  walking  on  his  hind  legs, 
“  It  is  not  surprising  that  she  does  not  do  it  well,”  he 
said;  “the  wonder  is  that  she  does  it  at  all.”  Ht 


WHAT  CAREER ? 


101 


Gregory  said  to  liis  daughters  :  “  If  you  happen  to  have 
any  learning,  keep  it  a  profound  secret  from  the  men, 
who  generally  look  with  a  jealous  and  malignant  eye 
on  a  woman  of  great  parts  and  a  cultivated  understand¬ 
ing.”  Women  who  wrote  books  in  those  days  would  deny 
the  charge  as  though  a  public  disgrace.  All  this  has 
changed,  and  what  a  change  it  is  !  As  Frances  Willard 
says,  the  greatest  discovery  of  the  century  is  the  dis= 
covery  of  woman.  We  have  emancipated  her,  and  are 
opening  countless  opportunities  for  our  girls  outside  of 
marriage.  Formerly  only  a  boy  could  choose  a  career, 
now  his  sister  can  do  the  same.  This  freedom  is  one  of 
the  greatest  glories  of  the  nineteenth  century.  But 
with  freedom  comes  responsibility,  and  under  these 
changed  conditions  every  girl  should  have  a  definite 
aim. 

“  Girls,  you  cheapen  yourselves  by  lack  of  purpose  in 
life,”  says  Rena  L.  Miner.  “You  show  commendable 
zeal  in  pursuing  your  studies ;  your  alertness  in  com¬ 
prehending  and  ability  in  surmounting  difficult  prob¬ 
lems  have  become  proverbial ;  nine  times  out  of  every 
ten  you  outrank  your  brothers  thus  far ;  but  when  the 
end  is  attained,  the  goal  reached,  whether  it  be  the 
graduating  certificate  from  a  graded  school,  or  a  college 
diploma,  for  nine  out  of  every  ten  it  might  as  well  be 
added  thereto,  1  dead  to  further  activity/  or,  1  sleeping 
until  marriage  shall  resurrect  her.’ 

“  Crocheting,  placquing,  dressing,  visiting,  music,  and 
flirtations  make  up  the  sum  total  for  the  expense  and 
labor  expended  for  your  existence.  If  forced  to  earn 
your  support,  you  are  content  to  stand  behind  a  counter, 
or  teach  school  term  after  term  in  the  same  grade,  while 
the  young  men  who  graduated  with  you  walk  up  the 
grades,  as  up  a  ladder,  to  professorship  and  good  salary, 
from  which  they  swing  off  into  law,  physics,  or  perhaps, 
the  legislative  firmament,  leaving  difficulties  and  obsta¬ 
cles  like  nebulae  in  their  wake.  You  girls,  satisfied  with 


102 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


mediocrity,  have  an  eye  mainly  for  the  ‘  main  chance 9  — « 
marriage.  If  you  marry  wealthy,  —  which  is  marrying 
well  according  to  the  modern  popular  idea,  —  you  dress 
more  elegantly,  cultivate  more  fashionable  society,  leave 
your  thinking  for  your  husband  and  your  minister  to  do 
for  you,  and  become  in  the  economy  of  life  but  a  sentient 
nonentity.  If  you  are  true  to  the  grand  passion,  and 
accept  with  it  poverty,  you  bake,  brew,  scrub,  spank 
the  children,  and  talk  with  your  neighbor  over  the  back 
fence  for  recreation,  spending  the  years  literally  like  the 
horse  in  a  treadmill,  all  for  the  lack  of  a  purpose,  —  a 
purpose  sufficiently  potent  to  convert  the  latent  talent 
into  a  gem  of  living  beauty,  a  creative  force  which  makes 
all  adjuncts  secondary,  like  planets  to  their  central  sun. 
Choose  some  one  course  or  calling,  and  master  it  in  all 
its  details,  sleep  by  it,  swear  by  it,  work  for  it,  and,  if 
marriage  crowns  yon,  it  can  but  add  new  glory  to  your 
labor.” 

Dr.  Hall  says  that  the  world  has  urgent  need  of  "  girls 
who  are  mother’s  right  hand ;  girls  who  can  cuddle  the 
little  ones  next  best  to  mamma,  and  smooth  out  the 
tangles  in  the  domestic  skein  when  things  get  twisted ; 
girls  whom  father  takes  comfort  in  for  something  better 
than  beauty,  and  the  big  brothers  are  proud  of  for  some¬ 
thing  that  outranks  the  ability  to  dance  or  shine  in  so¬ 
ciety.  Next,  we  want  girls  of  sense,  —  girls  who  have 
a  standard  of  their  own  regardless  of  conventionalities, 
and  are  independent  enough  to  live  up  to  it  ;  girls  who 
simply  won’t  wear  a  trailing  dress  on  the  street  to 
gather  up  microbes  and  all  sorts  of  defilement ;  girls 
who  don’t  wear  a  high  hat  to  the  theatre,  or  lacerate 
their  feet  and  endanger  their  health  with  high  heels 
and  corsets  ;  girls  who  will  wear  what  is  pretty  and 
becoming  and  snap  their  fingers  at  the  dictates  of  fashion 
when  fashion  is  horrid  and  silly.  And  we  want  good 
girls,  —  girls  who  are  sweet,  right  straight  out  from  the 
heart  to  the  lips ;  innocent  and  pure  and  simple  girls, 


WHAT  CAREER f 


103 


with  less  knowledge  of  sin  and  duplicity  and  evil-doing 
at  twenty  than  the  pert  little  schoolgirl  of  ten  has  all 
too  often.  And  we  want  careful  girls  and  prudent 
girls,  who  think  enough  of  the  generous  father  who 
toils  to  maintain  them  in  comfort,  and  of  the  gentle 
mother  who  denies  herself  much  that  they  may  have  so 
many  pretty  things,  to  count  the  cost  and  draw  the 
line  between  the  essentials  and  non-essentials  ;  girls  who 
strive  to  save  and  not  to  spend ;  girls  who  are  unselfish 
and  eager  to  be  a  joy  and  a  comfort  in  the  home  rather 
than  an  expense  and  a  useless  burden.  We  want  girls 
with  hearts,  —  girls  who  are  full  of  tenderness  and 
sympathy,  with  tears  that  flow  for  other  people’s  ills, 
and  smiles  that  light  outward  their  own  beautiful 
thoughts.  We  have  lots  of  clever  girls,  and  brilliant 
girls,  and  witty  girls.  Give  us  a  consignment  of  jolly 
girls,  warm-hearted  and  impulsive  girls  ;  kind  and  en¬ 
tertaining  to  their  own  folks,  and  with  little  desire  to 
shine  in  the  garish  world.  With  a  few  such  girls  scat¬ 
tered  around,  life  would  freshen  up  for  all  of  us,  as  the 
weather  does  under  the  spell  of  summer  showers.” 

“  They  talk  about  a  woman’s  sphere, 

As  though  it  had  a  limit ; 

There ’s  not  a  place  in  earth  or  heaven, 

There ’s  not  a  task  to  mankind  given, 

There ’s  not  a  blessing  or  a  woe, 

There ’s  not  a  whisper,  Yes  or  No, 

There  »s  not  a  life,  or  death,  or  birth, 

That  has  a  feather’s  weight  of  worth, 

Without  a  woman  in  it.” 

“Do  that  which  is  assigned  you,”  says  Emerson,  “and 
you  cannot  hope  too  much  or  dare  too  much.  There  is 
at  this  moment  for  you  an  utterance  brave  and  grand  as 
that  of  the  colossal  chisel  of  Phidias,  or  trowel  of  the 
Egyptians,  or  the  pen  of  Moses  or  Dante,  but  different 
from  all  these.” 

“  The  best  way  for  a  young  man  to  begin,  who  is  with 
out  friends  or  influence  is,”  said  Pus  sell  bage,  “  first,  by 


104 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


getting  a  position;  second,  keeping  his  mouth  shut; 
third,  observing ;  fourth,  being  faithful ;  fifth,  making 
his  employer  think  he  would  be  lost  in  a  fog  without 
him ;  and  sixth,  being  polite.” 

“  Close  application,  integrity,  attention  to  details,  dis- 
Breet  advertising,”  are  given  as  the  four  steps  to  success 
hy  John  Wanamaker,  whose  motto  is,  “Do  the  next 
filing.” 

“  There  lives  not  a  man  on  earth,  outside  of  a  lunatic 
asylum,”  says  Bulwer,  “who  has  not  in  him  the  power 
to  do  good.  What  can  writers,  haranguers,  or  specula¬ 
tors  do  more  than  that  ?  Have  you  ever  entered  a  cot¬ 
tage,  ever  traveled  in  a  coach,  ever  talked  with  a  peasant  ' 
in  the  field,  or  loitered  with  a  mechanic  at  the  loom, 
and  not  found  that  each  of  those  men  had  a  talent  you 
had  not,  knew  some  things  you  knew  not  ?  The  most 
useless  creature  that  ever  yawned  at  a  club,  or  counted 
the  vermin  on  his  rags,  under  the  sun  of  Calabria,  has  | 
no  excuse  for  want  of  intellect.  What  men  want  is  not 
talent,  it  is  purpose ;  in  other  words,  not  the  power  to  i 
achieve,  but  the  will  to  labor.” 

Whatever  you  do  in  life,  be  greater  than  your  calling. 
Most  people  look  upon  an  occupation  or  calling  as  a 
mere  expedient  for  earning  a  living.  What  a  mean, 
narrow  view  to  take  of  what  was  intended  for  the  great  ' 
school  of  life,  the  great  man-developer,  the  character- 
builder  ;  that  which  should  broaden,  deepen,  heighten, 
and  round  out  into  symmetry,  harmony,  and  beauty,  all 
the  God-given  faculties  within  us !  How  we  shrink 
from  the  task  and  evade  the  lessons  which  were  intended 
for  the  unfolding  of  life’s  great  possibilities  into  useful¬ 
ness  and  power,  as  the  sun  unfolds  into  beauty  and  fra¬ 
grance  the  petals  of  the  flower. 

I  am  glad  to  think 

I  am  not  bound  to  make  the  world  go  round; 

But  only  to  discover  and  to  do, 

\  WHh  cheerful  heart,  the  work  that  God  appoints. 

i  Jean  Ingklow. 

*  -  I 

;-i  •  J 


WHAT  CAREER ? 


105 


There  is  only  one  constant  factor  that  can  enter  into  all  professions  and 
businesses  —  the  service  of  mankind.  It  need  interfere  with  no  honest 
calling,  or  with  its  success.  That  Christian  factor  is  the  only  thing  that 
gives  the  highest  success,  the  most  enduring  life — a  worthy  immortality. 
We  do  not  choose  our  parts  in  life  aiid  have  nothing  to  do  with  those  parts. 
Our  simple  duty  is  confined  to  playing  them  well.  — Epictetus. 

“  ‘  What  shall  I  do  to  be  forever  known  ?  ' 

Thy  duty  ever ! 

‘This  did  full  many  who  yet  sleep  all  unknown,’  — 

Oh,  never,  never! 

Think’st  thou,  perchance,  that  they  remain  unknown 
Whom  thou  know’st  not  ? 

By  angel  trumps  in  heaven  their  praise  is  blown, 

Divine  their  lot.’' 


CHAPTER  VII. 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY. 


This  one  thing  I  do.  —  St.  Paul. 

The  ';ne  prudence  in  life  is  concentration  ;  the  one  evil  is  dissipation  } 
and  it  mckes  no  difference  whether  our  dissipations  are  coarse  or  fine.  .  .  . 
Everything  is  good  which  takes  away  one  plaything  and  delusion  more,  ;.nd 
sends  us  home  to  add  one  stroke  of  faithful  work.  —  Emerson. 

Let  thine  eyzs  look  right  on,  and  let  thine  eyelids  look  straight  before 
thee.  Turn  not  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.  — Proverbs. 

The  man  who  seeks  one  thing  in  life,  and  but  one, 

May  hope  to  achieve  it  before  life  be  done  ; 

But  he  who  seeks  all  things,  wherever  he  goes, 

Only  reaps  from  the  hopes  which  around  him  he  sows, 

A  harvest  of  barren  regrets. 

Owen  Meredith. 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  deeply  am  I  convinced  that  that  which 
makes  the  difference  between  one  man  and  another  —  between  the  weak 
and  powerful,  the  great  and  insignificant,  is  energy  —  invincible  deter¬ 
mination —  a  purpose  once  formed,  and  then  death  or  victory. — Powell 
Buxton. 


One  science  only  will  one  genius  fit. 


Pope. 


lie  did  it  with  all  his  heart  and  prospered. 

2  Chronicles. 


“  There  was  not  room  enough  for  us  all  in  Frankfort,” 
said  Nathan  Mayer  Rothschild,  speaking  of  himself 
and  his  four  brothers.  “  I  dealt  in  English  goods.  One 
great  trader  came  there,  who  had  the  market  to  himself ; 
he  was  quite  the  great  man,  and  did  us  a  favor  if  he 
sold  us  goods.  Somehow  I  offended  him,  and  he  refused 
to  show  me  his  patterns.  This  was  on  a  Tuesday.  I 
said  to  my  father,  ‘  I  will  go  to  England.*  On  Thursday 
I  started.  The  nearer  I  got  to  England,  the  cheaper 
goods  were.  As  soon  as  I  got  to  Manchester,  I  laid  out 
all  my  money,  things  were  so  cheap,  and  I  made  ?  good 
profit.” 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY. 


107 


“  I  hope,”  said  a  listener,  “  that  your  children  are  not 
too  fond  of  money  and  business,  to  the  exclusion  of 
more  important  things.  I  am  sure  you  would  not  wish 
that.” 

“  I  am  sure  I  would  wish  that,”  said  Rothschild ;  “  I 
wish  them  to  give  mind,  and  soul,  and  heart,  and  body  , 
and  everything  to  business ;  that  is  the  way  to  be  happy.7 
“  Stick  to  one  business,  young  man,”  he  added,  address 
ing  a  young  brewer ;  “  stick  to  your  brewery,  and  you 
may  be  the  great  brewer  of  London.  But  be  a  brewer, 
and  a  banker,  and  a  merchant,  and  a  manufacturer,  and 
you  will  soon  be  in  the  Gazette.77 

Not  many  things  indifferently,  but  one  thing  su¬ 
premely,  is  the  demand  of  the  hour.  He  who  scatters 
his  efforts  in  this  intense,  concentrated  age,  cannot  hope 
to  succeed. 

“  Goods  removed,  messages  taken,  carpets  beaten,  and 
poetry  composed  on  any  subject,77  was  the  sign  of  a  man 
in  London  who  was  not  very  successful  at  any  of  these 
lines  of  work,  and  reminds  one  of  Monsieur  Kenard,  of 
Paris,  “  a  public  scribe,  who  digests  accounts,  explains 
the  language  of  flowers,  and  sells  fried  potatoes.77 

The  great  difference  between  those  who  succeed  and 
those  who  fail  does  not  consist  in  the  amount  of  work 
done  by  each,  but  in  the  amount  of  intelligent  work. 
Many  of  those  who  fail  most  ignominiously,  do  enough 
to  achieve  grand  success  ;  but  they  labor  at  haphazard, 
building  up  with  one  hand  only  to  tear  down  with  the  ' 
other.  They  do  not  grasp  circumstances  and  change 
them  into  opportunities.  They  have  no  faculty  of  turn¬ 
ing  honest  defeats  into  telling  victories.  With  ability 
enough,  and  time  in  abundance,  —  the  warp  and  woof 
of  success,  — they  are  forever  throwing  back  and  forth 
an  empty  shuttle,  and  the  real  web  of  life  is  never 
woven. 

If  you  ask  one  of  them  to  state  his  aim  and  purpose  in 
life,  he  will  say :  “  I  hardly  know  yet  for  what  I  am  best 


108 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


adapted,  but  I  am  a  thorough  believer  in  genuine  hard 
work,  and  I  am  determined  to  dig  early  and  late  all  my 
life,  and  I  know  I  shall  come  across  something  —  either 
gold,  silver,  or  at  least  iron.”  I  say  most  emphatically, 
no.  Would  an  intelligent  man  dig  up  a  whole  continent 
to  find  its  veins  of  silver  and  gold  ?  The  man  who  is 
forever  looking  about  to  see  what  he  can  find,  never  finds 
anything.  We  find  what  we  seek  with  all  our  heart,  and 
if  we  look  for  nothing  in  particular,  we  find  just  that 
and  no  more.  The  bee  is  not  the  only  insect  that  visits 
the  flower,  but  it  is  the  only  one  that  carries  honey 
away.  It  matters  not  how  rich  the  materials  we  have 
gleaned  from  the  years  of  our  study  and  toil  in  youth, 
if  we  go  out  into  life  with  no  well-defined  idea  of  our 
future  work,  there  is  no  happy  conjunction  of  circum¬ 
stances  that  will  arrange  them  into  an  imposing  struc¬ 
ture,  and  give  it  magnificent  proportions. 

“  What  an  immense  power  over  the  life,”  says  Eliza¬ 
beth  Stuart  Phelps,  “  is  the  power  of  possessing  distinct 
aims.  The  voice,  the  dress,  the  look,  the  very  motions 
of  a  person,  define  and  alter  when  he  or  she  begins  to 
live  for  a  reason.  I  fancy  that  I  can  select,  in  a  crowded 
street,  the  busy,  blessed  women  who  support  themselves. 
They  carry  themselves  with  an  air  of  conscious  self- 
respect  and  self-content,  which  a  shabby  alpaca  cannot 
hide,  nor  a  bonnet  of  silk  enhance,  nor  even  sickness 
nor  exhaustion  quite  drag  out.” 

The  wind  never  blows  fair  for  that  sailor  who  knows 
not  to  what  port  he  is  bound. 

“  The  weakest  living  creature,”  says  Carlyle,  “by  con¬ 
centrating  his  powers  on  a  single  object,  can  accomplish 
something;  whereas  the  strongest,  by  dispersing  his 
over  many,  may  fail  to  accomplish  anything.  The  drop, 
by  continually  falling,  bores  its  passage  through  the 
hardest  rock.  The  hasty  torrent  rushes  over  it  with 
hideous  uproar  and  leaves  no  trace  behind.” 

“  When  I  was  young  I  used  to  think  it  was  tbundei 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY .  109 

that  killed  men,”  said  a  shrewd  preacher;  “but  as  I 
grew  older,  I  found  it  was  lightning.  So  I  resolved  to 
thunder  less,  and  lighten  more.” 

This  is  the  age  of  concentration  or  specialization  of 
energy.  The  problem  of  the  day  is  to  get  ten  horse¬ 
power  out  of  an  engine  that  shall  occupy  the  space  of 
a  one  horse-power  engine  and  no  more.  The  solution 
of  that  problem  will  solve  in  its  turn  the  lesser  problem 
of  flying.  Just  so  society  demands  a  ten  man-power 
out  of  one  individual.  It  crowns  the  man  who  knows 
one  thing  supremely,  and  can  do  it  better  than  anybody 
else,  even  if  it  only  be  the  art  of  raising  turnips.  If  he 
raises  the  best  turnips  by  reason  of  concentrating  all  his 
energy  to  that  end,  he  is  a  benefactor  to  the  race,  and 
is  recognized  as  such. 

“  Lord,  help  me  to  take  fewer  things  into  my  hands, 
and  to  do  them  well,”  is  a  prayer  recommended  by  Pax¬ 
ton  Hood  to  an  overworked  man. 

If  a  salamander  be  cut  in  two,  the  front  part  will 
run  forward  and  the  other  backward.  Such  is  the 
progress  of  him  who  divides  his  purpose.  Success  is 
jealous  of  scattered  energies. 

No  one  can  pursue  a  worthy  object  steadily  and  per¬ 
sistently  with  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  yet  make 
his  life  a  failure.  You  can’t  throw  a  tallow  candle 
through  the  side  of  a  tent,  but  you  can  shoot  it  through 
an  oak  board.  Melt  a  charge  of  shot  into  a  bullet,  and 
it  can  be  fired  through  the  bodies  of  four  men.  Focus 
the  rays  of  the  sun  in  winter,  and  you  can  kindle  a  fire 
with  ease. 

The  giants  of  the  race  have  been  men  of  concentra¬ 
tion,  who  have  struck  sledge-hammer  blows  in  one  place 
until  they  have  accomplished  their  purpose.  The  suc¬ 
cessful  men  of  to-day  are  men  of  one  overmastering  idea, 
one  unwavering  aim,  men  of  single  and  intense  purpose. 
“  Scatteration  ”  is  the  curse  of  American  business  life. 
Too  many  are  like  Douglas  Jerrold’s  friend,  who  could 


110 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


converse  in  twenty-four  languages,  but  had  no  ideas  to 
express  in  any  one  of  them. 

One  of  the  hardest  tasks  for  a  boy  or  a  girl  is  to  com 
centrate  the  whole  attention  upon  the  lesson  of  the 
morrow  ;  for  the  student  in  college  to  prepare  for  the 
next  recitation  without  running  to  the  ball-field,  or 
allowing  liis  gaze  to  wander  around  the  room,  or  doing 
anything  else  in  order  to  cheat  himself  out  of  what  he 
ought  to  do.  In  study,  as  in  business,  we  must  not  only 
strike  the  iron  while  it  is  hot,  but  strike  it  until  it  is 
made  hot. 

William  A.  Mowry  tells  a  story  of  one  of  the  foremost 
of  American  scholars,  who  found' himself  spending  two 
hours  a  day  in  preparing  his  Latin  lesson.  He  deter¬ 
mined  to  get  that  lesson  in  an  hour  and  fifty  minutes, 
and  succeeded.  When  he  afterwards  sat  down  to  learn 
his  Latin,  lie  bent  every  energy  to  accomplish  it  in  the 
shortest  possible  time.  He  found  by  daily  trials,  that 
lie  could  learn  it  in  an  hour  and  forty-five  minutes,  and 
that  the  time  required  was  diminishing.  Concentrating 
all  his  powers  upon  the  task,  day  by  day,  he  soon  found 
himself  studying  only  an  hour  and  a  half  upon  it,  then 
live,  ten,  fifteen,  and  even  thirty  minutes  less.  Encour¬ 
aged,  he  redoubled  his  efforts,  and  within  a  few  months 
the  lesson  could  be  learned  in  less  than  half  an  hour, 
a  thing  absolutely  impossible  with  his  habits  of  study 
when  he  entered  the  school.  But  he  had  done  some¬ 
thing  more  than  to  learn  a  Latin  lesson  in  a  shorter 
time.  He  had  learned  something  of  the  value  of  con¬ 
centration.  The  acquisition  of  such  power  is  of  more 
value  than  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 

Mr.  Mowry  gives  another  good  illustration  of  this 
power  in  his  “  Talks  with  My  Boys.”  A  boy  of  fifteen 
once  agreed  to  commit  seven  long  stanzas  of  poetry  in 
twenty  minutes,  with  his  companions  allowed  to  use 
every  possible  effort  to  disturb  him,  provided  they  would 
not  touch  him.  Amid  such  a  pandemonium  as  on?y 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY. 


1H 


boys  can  make,  the  task  was  accomplished.  This  boy, 
George  S.  Boutwell,  was  afterwards  governor  of  Massa¬ 
chusetts,  United  States  Senator,  and  Secretary  of  the 
United  States  Treasury. 

“  The  only  valuable  kind  of  study,”  said  Sydney 
Smith,  “  is  to  read  so  heartily  that  dinner-time  comes 
two  hours  before  you  expected  it ;  to  sit  with  your 
Livy  before  you  and  hear  the  geese  cackling  that  saved 
the  Capitol,  and  to  see  with  your  own  eyes  the  Cartha¬ 
ginian  sutlers  gathering  up  the  rings  of  the  Roman 
knights  after  the  battle  of  Cannae,  and  heaping  them 
into  bushels,  and  to  be  so  intimately  present  at  the 
actions  you  are  reading  of,  that  when  anybody  knocks 
at  the  door  it  will  take  you  two  or  three  seconds  to 
determine  whether  you  are  in  your  own  study  or  on  the 
plains  of  Lombardy,  looking  at  Hannibal’s  weather¬ 
beaten  face  and  admiring  the  splendor  of  his  single 
eye.” 

Don't  dally  with  your  purpose. 

“The  one  serviceable,  safe,  certain,  remunerative, 
attainable  quality  in  every  study  and  pursuit  is  the 
quality  of  attention,”  said  Charles  Dickens.  “  My  own 
invention,  or  imagination,  such  as  it  is,  I  can  most  truth¬ 
fully  assure  3^011  would  never  have  served  me  as  it  has, 
but  for  the  habit  of  commonplace,  humble,  patient,  daily, 
toiling,  drudging  attention.”  When  asked  on  another 
occasion  the  secret  of  his  success,  he  said :  “  I  never 
put  one  hand  to  anything  on  which  I  could  throw  m}r 
whole  self.”  “Be  a  whole  man  at  everything,”  wrote 
Joseph  Gurney  to  his  son,  “a  whole  man  at  study,  in 
work,  in  play.” 

“  I  go  at  what  I  am  about,”  said  Charles  Kingsley, 
”as  if  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  world  for  the  time 
being.  That ’s  the  secret  of  all  hard-working  men  ;  but 
most  of  them  can’t  carry  it  into  their  amusements.” 

Many  a  man  fails  to  become  a  great  man  by  splitting 
into  several  small  ones,  choosing  to  be  a  tolerable  Jack 


112 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


of-all-trades  rather  than  to  be  an  unrivaled  specialist 
Such  people  produce  admiration  but  not  conviction. 

“  Many  persons  seeing  me  so  much  engaged  in  active 
life,”  said  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton,  “and  as  much  about 
the  world  as  if  I  had  never  been  a  student,  have  said  to 
me,  ‘  When  do  you  get  time  to  write  all  your  books  ? 
How  on  earth  do  you  contrive  to  do  so  much  work  ? 1 
I  shall  surprise  you  by  the  answer  I  made.  The  answer 
is  this  —  ‘  I  contrive  to  do  so  much  by  never  doing  too 
much  at  a  time.  A  man  to  get  through  work  well  must 
not  overwork  himself ;  or,  if  he  do  too  much  to-day,  the 
reaction  of  fatigue  will  come,  and  he  will  be  obliged  to 
do  too  little  to-morrow.  Now,  since  I  began  really  and 
earnestly  to  study,  which  was  not  till  I  had  left  college, 
and  was  actually  in  the  world,  I  may  perhaps  say  that 
I  have  gone  through  as  large  a  course  of  general  reading 
as  most  men  of  my  time.  I  have  traveled  much  and  I 
have  seen  much  ;  I  have  mixed  much  in  politics,  and 
in  the  various  business  of  life ;  and  in  addition  to  all 
this,  I  have  published  somewhere  about  sixty  volumes, 
some  upon  subjects  requiring  much  special  research. 
And  what  time  do  you  think,  as  a  general  rule,  I  have 
devoted  to  study,  to  reading  and  writing  ?  Not  more 
than  three  hours  a  day ;  and,  when  Parliament  is  sit¬ 
ting,  not  always  that.  But  then,  during  these  three 
hours,  I  have  given  my  whole  attention  to  what  I  was 
about.” 

S.  T.  Coleridge  possessed  marvelous  powers  of  mind, 
but  he  had  no  definite  purpose  ;  he  lived  in  an  atmos¬ 
phere  of  mental  dissipation  which  consumed  his  energy, 
exhausted  his  stamina,  and  his  life  was  in  many  respects 
a  miserable  failure.  He  lived  in  dreams  and  died  in 
reverie.  Pie  was  continually  forming  plans  and  res¬ 
olutions,  but  to  the  day  of  his  death  they  remained 
resolutions  and  plans.  He  was  always  just  going  to  do 
something,  but  never  did  it.  “Coleridge  is  dead,” 
wrote  Charles  Lamb  to  a  friend,  “  and  is  said  to  have 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY.  113 

left  behind  him  above  forty  thousand  treatises  on  meta¬ 
physics  and  divinity  —  not  one  of  them  complete  !  ” 

Every  great  man  has  become  great,  every  successful 
man  has  succeeded,  in  proportion  as  he  has  confined  his 
powers  to  one  particular  channel. 

Hogarth  would  rivet  his  attention  upon  a  face  and 
study  it  until  it  was  photographed  upon  his  memory, 
when  he  could  reproduce  it  at  will.  He  studied  and 
examined  each  object  as  eagerly  as  though  he  would 
.  never  have  a  chance  to  see  it  again,  and  this  habit  of 
close  observation  enabled  him  to  develop  his  work  with 
marvelous  detail.  The  very  modes  of  thought  of  the 
time  in  which  he  lived  were  reflected  from  his  works. 
He  was  not  a  man  of  great  education  or  culture  except 
in  his  power  of  observation. 

Great  men  who  have  written  books  in  prison  know 
the  value  of  concentrated  observation.  The  slightest 
circumstance,  as  the  appearance  of  a  visitor,  the  pass¬ 
ing  of  an  officer  or  prisoner  by  the  door  of  the  cell,  would 
be  seized  and  utilized  as  though  it  were  the  last  thing  to 
be  seen  for  a  year. 

With  an  immense  procession  passing  up  Broadway, 
the  streets  lined  with  people,  and  bands  playing  lustily, 
Horace  Greeley  would  sit  upon  the  steps  of  the  Astor 
House,  use  the  top  of  his  hat  for  a  desk,  and  write  an 
editorial  for  the  “New  York  Tribune”  which  would  be 
quoted  far  and  wide. 

Offended  by  a  pungent  article,  a  gentleman  called  at 
the  “  Tribune  ”  office  and  inquired  for  the  editor.  He  was 
shown  into  a  little  seven-by-nine  sanctum,  where  Gree¬ 
ley  sat,  with  his  head  close  down  to  his  paper,  scrib¬ 
bling  away  at  a  two-forty  rate.  The  angry  man  began 
by  asking  if  this  was  Mr.  Greeley.  “  Yes,  sir;  what  do 
you  want  ?  ”  said  the  editor  quickly,  without  once  look¬ 
ing  up  from  his  paper.  The  irate  visitor  then  began 
using  his  tongue,  with  no  reference  to  the  rules  of  pro¬ 
priety,  good  breeding,  or  reason.  Meantime  Mr.  Gree' 


114 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


ley  continued  to  write.  Page  after  page  was  dashed  off 
in  the  most  impetuous  style,  with  no  change  of  features, 
and  without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  the  visi¬ 
tor.  Finally,  after  about  twenty  minutes  of  the  most 
impassioned  scolding  ever  poured  out  in  an  editor’s 
office,  the  angry  man  became  disgusted,  and  abruptly 
turned  to  walk  out  of  the  room.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  Mr.  Greeley  quickly  looked  up,  rose  from  his  chair, 
and  slapping  the  gentleman  familiarly  on  his  shoulder, 
in  a  pleasant  tone  of  voice  said  :  “  Don’t  go,  friend  ;  sit 
down,  sit  down,  and  free  your  mind  ;  it  will  do  you 
good,  —  you  will  feel  better  for  it.  Besides,  it  helps 
me  to  think  what  I  am  to  write  about.  Don’t  go.” 

One  unwavering  aim  has  ever  characterized  successful 
men. 

“  I  resolved,  when  I  began  to  read  law,”  said  Edward 
Sugden,  afterwards  Lord  St.  Leonard,  “  to  make  every¬ 
thing  I  acquired  perfectly  my  own,  and  never  go  on  to 
a  second  reading  till  I  had  entirely  accomplished  the 
first.  Many  of  the  competitors  read  as  much  in  a  day 
as  I  did  in  a  week ;  but  at  the  end  of  twelve  months  my 
knowledge  was  as  fresh  as  on  the  day  it  was  acquired, 
while  theirs  had  glided  away  from  their  recollection.” 

“  See  a  great  lawyer  like  Rufus  Choate,”  says  Dr. 
Storrs,  “  in  a  case  where  his  convictions  are  strong  and 
his  feelings  are  enlisted.  He  saw  long  ago,  as  he 
glanced  over  the  box,  that  five  of  those  in  it  were  sym¬ 
pathetic  with  him  ;  as  he  went  on  he  became  equally 
certain  of  seven ;  the  number  now  has  risen  to  ten ; 
but  two  are  still  left  whom  lie  feels  that  he  has  not  per 
suaded  or  mastered.  Upon  them  he  now  concentrates 
his  power,  summing  up  the  facts,  setting  forth  anew 
and  more  forcibly  the  principles,  urging  upon  them  his 
view  of  the  case  with  a  more  and  more  intense  action  of 
his  mind  upon  theirs,  until  one  only  is  left.  Like  the 
blow  of  a  hammer,  continually  repeated  until  the  iron 
bar  crumbles  beneath  it,  his  whole  force  comes  with 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY.  115 

ceaseless  percussion  on  that  one  mind  till  it  has  yielded, 
and  accepts  the  conviction  on  which  the  pleader’s  pur¬ 
pose  is  fixed.  Men  say  afterward,  ‘He  surpassed  him- 
self.’  It  was  only  because  the  singleness  of  his  aim 
gave  unity,  intensity,  and  overpowering  energy  to  the 
mind.” 

“  Daniel  Webster,”  said  Sydney  Smith,  “struck  me 
much  like  a  steam-engine  in  trousers.” 

As  Adams  suggests,  Lord  Brougham,  like  Canning, 
had  too  many  talents  ;  and,  though  as  a  lawyer  he  gained 
the  most  splendid  prize  of  his  profession,  the  Lord 
Chancellorship  of  England,  and  merited  the  applause  of 
scientific  men  for  his  investigations  in  science,  yet  his 
life  on  the  whole  was  a  failure.  He  was  “  everything 
by  turns  and  nothing  long.”  With  all  his  magnificent 
abilities  he  left  no  permanent  mark  on  history  or  litera¬ 
ture,  and  actually  outlived  his  own  fame. 

Miss  Martineau  says,  “  Lord  Brougham  was  at  his 
chateau  at  Cannes  when  the  daguerreotype  process  first 
came  into  vogue.  An  artist  undertook  to  take  a  view 
of  the  chateau  with  a  group  of  guests  on  the  balcony. 
He  asked  His  Lordship  to  keep  perfectly  still  for  five 
seconds,  and  he  promised  that  he  would  not  stir,  but 
alas,  —  he  moved.  The  consequence  was  that  where 
Lord  Brougham  should  have  been  there  was  only  a  blur. 
So  stands  the  view  to  this  hour. 

“There  is  something,”  remarks  Miss  Martineau, 
“  very  typical  in  this.  In  the  picture  of  our  century, 
as  taken  from  the  life  by  history,  this  very  man  should 
have  been  the  central  figure.  But,  owing  to  his  want 
of  steadfastness,  there  will  be  forever  a  blur  where 
Lord  Brougham  should  have  been.  How  many  lives 
are  blurs  for  want  of  concentration  and  steadfastness 
of  purpose.” 

What  a  contrast  is  afforded  by  the  unwavering  aim 
of  William  Pitt,  who  lived,  ay,  and  died  for  the  sake  of 
political  supremacy.  Everything  yielded  to  his  lofty 


116 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


aim.  He  neglected  everything  else,  was  careless  of  his 
friends  and  expenditures,  so  that  even  with  an  income 
of  £10,000  a  year,  and  no  family,  he  died  hopelessly 
in  debt.  He  tore  by  the  roots  from  his  heart  a  love 
most  deep  and  tender,  because  it  ran  counter  to  his  am¬ 
bition.  He  was  totally  indifferent  to  posthumous  fame, 
so  that  he  did  not  take  pains  to  transmit  to  posterity 
a  single  one  of  his  speeches.  He  bent  all  his  energies 
to  the  acquisition  of  power,  and  wielded  the  sceptre  of 
England  for  a  quarter  of  a  century.  There  was  no  turn 
ing  to  the  right  or  left.  He  went  straight  to  his  goal. 
There  was  “no  dreaming  away  time  or  building  air- 
castles;  but  one  look  and  purpose,  forward,  onward, 
and  upward,  straight  to  success.” 

Fowell  Buxton  attributed  his  success  to  ordinary 
means  and  extraordinary  application,  and  being  a  whole 
man  to  one  thing  at  a  time.  It  is  ever  the  unwavering 
pursuit  of  a  single  aim  that  wins.  “ Non  multa,  sed  : 
multum ”  —  not  many  things,  but  much,  was  Coke’s 
motto. 

It  is  the  almost  invisible  point  of  a  needle,  the  keen, 
slender  edge  of  a  razor  or  an  axe,  that  opens  the  way 
for  the  huge  bulk  that  follows.  Without  point  or  edge 
the  bulk  would  be  useless.  It  is  the  man  of  one  line  of 
work,  the  sharp-edged  man,  who  cuts  his  way  through 
obstacles,  and  achieves  brilliant  success.  While  we 
should  shun  that  narrow  devotion  to  one  idea  which 
prevents  the  harmonious  development  of  our  powers, 
we  should  avoid  on  the  other  hand  the  extreme  versa/ 
tility  of  one  of  whom  W.  M.  Praed  says :  — 

“  His  talk  is  like  a  stream  which  runs 

With  rapid  change  from  rocks  to  roses, 

It  slips  from  politics  to  puns, 

It  glides  from  Mahomet  to  Moses ; 

Beginning  with  the  laws  that  keep 
The  planets  in  their  radiant  courses, 

And  ending  with  some  precept  deep 
For  skinning  eels  or  shoeing  horses.** 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY .  117 

If  you  can  get  a  cliild  learning  to  walk  to  fix  his  eyes 
on  any  object,  he  will  generally  navigate  to  that  point 
without  capsizing,  but  distract  his  attention  and  down 
goes  the  baby. 

He  who  vacillates  in  his  course,  “yawing,”  as  sailors 
say,  first  this  way,  then  that,  is  pretty  sure  to  be  cast 
away  before  he  has  half  finished  the  voyage  of  life. 
Weathercock  men  are  nature’s  failures.  No  one  can 
succeed  who  has  not  a  fixed  and  resolute  purpose  in  his 
mind,  and  an  unwavering  faith  that  he  can  accomplish 
his  purpose.  One  little  hair’s-breadth  above  or  below 
a  direct  aim,  and  a  man  has  begun  his  downward  course. 
“  When  I  have  once  taken  a  resolution,”  said  Cardinal 
Richelieu,  “I  go  straight  to  my  aim;  I  overthrow  all,  I 
cut  down  all.” 

The  young  man  seeking  a  position  to-day  is  not  asked 
what  college  he  came  from  or  who  his  ancestors  were, 
but  u What  can  you  do?”  is  the  great  question.  It  is 
special  training  that  is  wanted.  Most  of  the  men  at 
the  head  of  great  firms  and  great  enterprises  have  been 
promoted  step  by  step  from  the  bottom. 

“Beware  of  making  a  purchase  there,”  said  an  emi¬ 
nent  Frenchman  to  one  who  wished  to  buy  land  and 
settle  in  a  certain  district ;  “  I  know  the  men  of  that 
department;  the  pupils  who  come  from  it  to  our  veter¬ 
inary  school  at  Paris  do  not  strike  hard  upon  the  anvil  : 
they  want  energy,  and  you  will  not  get  a  satisfactory 
return  on  any  capital  you  may  invest  there.” 

By  exercising  this  art  of  concentration  in  a  higher 
degree  than  did  his  brother  generals,  Grant  was  able  to 
bring  the  Civil  War  to  a  speedy  termination.  This  trait 
was  strongly  marked  in  the  character  of  Washington. 
One  way  of  acquiring  the  power  of  concentration  is  by 
close,  accurate  observation.  This  was  the  main  factor 
in  Darwin’s  wonderful  success. 

“I  know  that  he  can  toil  terribly,”  said  Cecil  of 
Walter  Raleigh,  in  explanation  of  the  latter’s  success. 


118 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


As  a  rule,  what  the  heart  longs  for  the  head  and  the 
hands  may  attain.  The  currents  of  knowledge,  of 
wealth,  of  success,  are  as  certain  and  fixed  as  the  tides 
of  the  sea.  In  all  great  successes  we  can  trace  the 
power  of  concentration,  riveting  every  faculty  upon  one 
unwavering  aim ;  perseverance  in  the  pursuit  of  an  un¬ 
dertaking  in  spite  of  every  difficulty;  and  courage 
which  enables  one  to  bear  up  under  all  trials,  disap* 
pointments,  and  temptations. 

Chemists  tell  us  that  there  is  power  enough  in  a 
single  acre  of  grass  to  drive  all  the  mills  and  steam-cars 
in  the  world,  could  we  but  concentrate  it  upon  the 
piston-rod  of  the  steam-engine.  But  it  is  at  rest,  this 
acre  of  grass,  and  so,  in  the  light  of  science,  it  is  com¬ 
paratively  valueless. 

What  a  great  discrepancy  there  is  between  men  and 
the  results  they  achieve !  It  is  due  to  the  difference 
in  their  power  of  calling  together  all  the  rays  of  their 
ability,  and  concentrating  them  upon  one  point.  Such 
a  power  will  find  a  way,  or  make  one.  A  versatile  man 
is  usually  a  smatterer. 

Dr.  Mathews  says  that  the  man  who  scatters  himself 
upon  many  objects  soon  loses  his  energy,  and  with  his 
energy  his  enthusiasm,  adding,  “and  how  is  success 
possible  without  enthusiasm  ?  ”  Dr.  J.  W.  Alexander 
thus  exhorted  young  ministers :  “  Live  for  your  ser¬ 
mon  —  live  in  your  sermon.  Get  some  starling  to  cry 
Sermon,  sermon,  sermon.”  Kufus  Choate  advised  young 
lawyers  to  “carry  the  jury  at  all  hazards ;  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  carry  the  jury,  and  then  fight  it  out  with 
the  judges  on  the  law  questions  as  best  you  can.”  Com¬ 
modore  Macdonough  on  Lake  Champlain  concentrated 
the  fire  of  all  his  vessels  upon  the  “  big  ship  ”  of  Downie, 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  the  other  British  ships  were 
all  hurling  cannon-balls  at  his  little  fleet.  The  guns  of 
the  big  ship  were  silenced,  and  then  the  others  were 
taken  care  of  easily.  William  Wirt  wrote  of  a  former 


CONCENTRATED  ENERGY. 


119 


Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States:  “ There  is  John 
Marshall,  whose  mind  seems  to  be  little  less  than  a 
mountain  of  barren  and  stupendous  rocks,  —  an  inex¬ 
haustible  quarry  from  which  he  draws  his  materials 
and  builds  his  fabrics,  rude  and  Gothic,  but  of  such 
strength  that  neither  time  nor  force  can  beat  them 
down ;  a  fellow  who  would  not  turn  off  a  single  step 
from  the  right  line  of  his  argument  though  a  paradise 
should  rise  to  tempt  him.” 

“ Never  study  on  speculation,”  says  Waters;  “all 
such  study  is  vain.  Form  a  plan;  have  an  object;  then 
work  for  it ;  learn  all  you  can  about  it,  and  you  will  be 
sure  to  succeed.  What  I  mean  by  studying  on  specula¬ 
tion  is  that  aimless  learning  of  things  because  they 
may  be  useful  some  day ;  which  is  like  the  conduct  of 
the  woman  who  bought  at  auction  a  brass  door-plate 
with  the  name  of  Thompson  on  it,  thinking  it  might  be 
useful  some  day  !  ” 

Definiteness  of  aim  is  characteristic  of  all  true  art. 
He  is  not  the  greatest  painter  who  crowds  the  greatest 
number  of  ideas  upon  a  single  canvas,  giving  all  the 
figures  equal  prominence.  He  is  the  genuine  artist 
who  makes  the  greatest  variety  express  the  greatest 
unity,  who  develops  the  leading  idea  in  the  central 
figure,  and  makes  all  the  subordinate  figures,  lights, 
and  shades  point  to  that  centre  and  find  expression 
there.  So  in  every  well-balanced  life,  no  matter  how 
versatile  in  endowments,  or  how  broad  in  culture,  there 
is  one  grand  central  purpose,  in  which  all  the  subor¬ 
dinate  powers  of  the  soul  are  brought  to  a  focus,  and 
where  they  will  find  fit  expression.  In  nature  we  see 
no  waste  of  energy,  nothing  left  to  chance.  Since  the 
shuttle  of  creation  shot  for  the  first  time  through  chaos, 
design  has  marked  the  course  of  every  golden  thread. 
Every  leaf,  every  flower,  every  crystal,  every  atom,  even, 
has  a  purpose  stamped  upon  it  which  unmistakably 
points  to  the  crowning  summit  of  all  creation  —  man. 


1 

120  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT, 

Young  men  are  often  told  to  aim  high,  but  we  must 
aim  at  what  we  would  hit.  He  who  cannot  see  an 
angel  in  the  rough  marble  can  never  call  it  out  with 
mallet  and  chisel.  No,  a  general  purpose  is  not  enough. 
The  arrow  shot  from  the  bow  does  not  wander  around 
to  see  what  it  can  hit  on  its  way,  but  flies  straight  to 
the  mark.  The  magnetic  needle  does  not  point  to  al1 
the  lights  in  the  heavens  to  see  which  it  likes  best 
They  all  attract  it.  The  sun  dazzles,  the  meteor  beck¬ 
ons,  the  stars  twinkle  to  it,  and  try  to  win  its  affec¬ 
tions  ;  but  the  needle,  true  to  its  instinct,  and  with  a 
finger  that  never  errs  in  sunshine  or  in  storm,  points 
steadily  to  the  North  Star ;  for,  while  all  the  other 
stars  must  course  with  untiring  tread  around  their 
great  centres  through  all  the  ages,  the  North  Star, 
alone,  distant  beyond  human  comprehension,  moves 
with  stately  sweep  on  its  circuit  of  more  than  25,000 
years,  for  all  practical  purposes  of  man,  stationary,  not 
only  for  a  day  but  for  a  century.  So  all  along  the 
path  of  life  other  luminaries  will  beckon  to  lead  us 
from  our  cherished  aim  —  from  the  course  of  truth  and 
duty;  but  let  no  moons  which  shine  with  borrowed 
light,  no  meteors  which  dazzle  but  never  guide,  turn 
the  needle  of  our  purpose  from  the  North  Star  of  its 
hope. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"on  time,”  or  the  triumph  of  promptness. 

M  On  the  great  clock  of  time  there  is  but  one  word  —  now.” 

Note  the  sublime  precision  that  leads  the  earth  over  a  circuit  of  five 
hundred  millions  of  miles  back  to  the  solstice  at  the  appointed  moment 
without  the  loss  of  one  second,  — no,  not  the  millionth  part  of  a  second,  — 
for  ages  and  ages  of  which  it  traveled  that  imperiled  road.  — Edward 
Everett. 

“  Who  cannot  but  see  oftentimes  how  strange  the  threads  of  our  destiny 
run?  Oft  it  is  only  for  a  moment  the  favorable  instant  is  presented.  We 
miss  it,  and  months  and  years  are  lost.” 

By  the  street  of  by  and  by  one  arrives  at  the  house  of  never. _ 

Cervantes. 

Whilst  we  are  considering  when  we  are  to  begin,  it  is  often  too  late  to 
act.  —  Quintilian. 

When  a  fool  has  made  up  his  mind  the  market  has  gone  by.  — Spanish 
Proverb. 

It  is  no  use  running;  to  set  out  betimes  is  the  main  point. —  La  Fon¬ 
taine. 

Lose  this  day  by  loitering  — ’t  will  be  the  same  story  to-morrow,  and 
the  next  more  dilatory.” 

Let’s  take  the  instant  by  the  forward  top.  —  Shakespeare. 

“Haste,  post,  haste!  Haste  for  thy  life!”  was  fre 
quently  written  upon  messages  in  the  days  of  Henry 
,.i  VIII.  of  England,  with  a  picture  of  a  courier  swinging 
from  a  gibbet.  Post-offices  were  unknown,  and  letters 
were  carried  by  government  messengers  subject  to 
hanging  if  they  delayed  upon  the  road. 

Even  in  the  old,  slow  days  of  stage-coaches,  when  it 
took  a  month  of  dangerous  traveling  to  accomplish  the 
distance  we  can  now  span  in  a  few  hours,  unnecessary 
delay  was  a  crime.  One  of  the  greatest  gains  civiliza¬ 
tion  has  made  is  in  measuring  and  utilizing  time.  We 
can  do  as  much  in  an  hour  to-day  as  they  could  in 
twenty  hours  a  hundred  years  ago;  and  if  it  was  a 


122 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


hanging  affair  then  to  lose  a  few  minutes,  what  should 
the  penalty  be  now  for  a  like  offense  ? 

Caesar’s  delay  to  read  a  message  cost  him  his  life 
when  he  reached  the  senate  house.  “  Delays  have  dan¬ 
gerous  ends.”  Colonel  Eahl,  the  Hessian  commander 
at  Trenton,  was  playing  cards  when  a  messenger  brought 
a  letter  stating  that  Washington  was  crossing  the  Dela 
ware.  He  put  the  letter  in  liis  pocket  without  reading 
it  until  the  game  was  finished,  when  he  rallied  his  men 
only  to  die  just  before  his  troops  were  taken  prisoners, 
Only  a  few  minutes’  delay,  but  he  lost  honor,  liberty, 
life ! 

Success  is  the  child  of  two  very  plain  parents  — 
punctuality  and  accuracy.  There  are  critical  moments 
in  every  successful  life  when  if  the  mind  hesitate  or  a 
nerve  flinch  all  will  be  lost. 

General  Putnam  was  ploughing  with  his  son  Daniel 
in  eastern  Connecticut  when  the  news  of  the  battle 
of  Lexington  reached  him.  aHe  loitered  not,”  said 
Daniel,  “  but  left  me,  the  driver  of  his  team,  to  unyoke 
it  in  the  furrow,  and  not  many  days  after,  to  follow 
him  to  camp.”  Alarming  the  militia  and  ordering 
them  to  join  him,  he  rode  all  night  and  reached  Cam¬ 
bridge  the  next  morning  at  sunrise,  still  wearing  the 
checkered  shirt  which  he  had  on  when  ploughing. 

“  Immediately  on  receiving  your  proclamation,”  wrote 
Governor  Andrew  of  Massachusetts  to  President  Lin¬ 
coln  on  May  3,  1861,  “we  took  up  the  war,  and  have 
carried  on  our  part  of  it,  in  the  spirit  in  which  we 
believe  the  Administration  and  the  American  people 
intend  to  act,  namely,  as  if  there  were  not  an  inch  of 
red  tape  in  the  world.”  He  had  received  a  telegram  for 
troops  from  Washington  on  Monday,  April  15;  at  nine 
o’clock  the  next  Sunday  he  said  :  11  All  the  regiments 

demanded  from  Massachusetts  are  already  either  in 
Washington,  or  in  Fortress  Monroe,  or  on  their  way  to 
the  defense  of  the  Capitol.” 


“  ON  TIME” 


123 


“  The  only  question  which  I  can  entertain,”  he  said, 
u  is  what  to  do  ;  and  when  that  question  is  answered,' 
the  other  is,  what  next  to  do.” 

“  The  whole  period  of  youth,”  said  Ruskin,  “  is  one 
essentially  of  formation,  edification,  instruction.  There 
is  not  an  hour  of  it  but  is  trembling  with  destinies  — ■ 
not  a  moment  of  which,  once  passed,  the  appointed 
work  can  ever  be  done  again,  or  the  neglected  blow 
struck  on  the  cold  iron.” 

Napoleon  laid  great  stress  upon  that  “  supreme  mo¬ 
ment,”  that  “  nick  of  time  ”  which  occurs  in  every  bat¬ 
tle,  to  take  advantage  of  which  means  victory,  and  to 
lose  in  hesitation  means  disaster.  He  said  that  he  beat 
the  Austrians  because  they  did  not  know  the  value  of 
five  minutes ;  and  it  has  been  said  that  among  the 
trifles  that  conspired  to  defeat  him  at  Waterloo,  the 
loss  of  a  few  moments  by  himself  and  Grouchy  on  the 
fatal  morning  were  the  most  significant.  Bliicher  was 
on  time,  and  Grouchy  was  late.  It  was  enough  to  send 
Napoleon  to  St.  Helena.  It  is  a  well-known  truism 
that  has  almost  been  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  a 
maxim,  that  what  may  be  done  at  any  time  will  be 
done  at  no  time. 

u  The  fact  is,”  says  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  “  that,  in 
order  to  do  anything  in  this  world  worth  doing,  we 
must  not  stand  shivering  on  the  bank,  and  thinking  of 
the  cold  and  the  danger,  but  jump  in  and  scramble 
through  as  well  as  we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be  per¬ 
petually  calculating  risks  and  adjusting  nice  chances. 
It  did  all  very  well  before  the  flood,  when  a  man  could 
consult  his  friends  upon  an  intended  publication  for 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  then  live  to  see  its 
success  for  six  or  seven  centuries  afterwards  ;  but  at 
present  a  man  waits,  and  doubts,  and  hesitates,  and 
consults  his  brother,  and  his  uncle,  and  his  cousin,  and 
his  particular  friends,  till,  one  fine  day,  he  finds  that 
he  is  sixty-five  years  of  age,  —  that  he  has  lost  so  much 


124 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


time  in  consulting  his  cousins  and  particular  friends 
'  that  he  has  no  more  time  left  to  follow  their  ad¬ 
vice.” 

The  African  Association  of  London  wanted  to  send 
Ledyard  the  traveler  to  Africa,  and  asked  when  he 
would  be  ready  to  go.  “  To-morrow  morning,”  was  the 
reply.  John  Jervis,  afterwards  Earl  St.  Vincent,  was 
asked  when  he  could  join  his  ship,  and  replied,  “Di 
rectly.”  Colin  Campbell,  appointed  commander  of  the 
army  in  India,  and  asked  when  he  could  set  out,  replied 
without  hesitation,  “ To-morrow.”  “Every  moment 
lost,”  said  Napoleon,  “  gives  an  opportunity  for  mis¬ 
fortune.” 

The  energy  wasted  in  postponing  until  to-morrow  a 
duty  of  to-day,  would  often  do  the  work.  How  much 
harder  and  more  disagreeable,  too,  it  is  to  do  work 
which  has  been  put  off.  What  would  have  been  done 
at  the  time  with  pleasure  or  even  enthusiasm  becomes 
drudgery  after  it  has  been  delayed  for  days  and  weeks. 
Letters  can  never  be  answered  so  easily  as  when  first 
received.  Many  large  firms  make  it  a  rule  never  to 
allow  a  letter  to  lie  unanswered  overnight.  Prompt¬ 
ness  takes  the  drudgery  out  of  an  occupation.  Putting 
off  usually  mea  is  leaving  off,  and  going,  to  do  becomes 
going  undone.  Doing  a  deed  is  like  sowing  a  seed  ;  if 
not  done  at  jus\  the  right  time  it  will  be  forever  out  of 
season.  The  summer  of  eternity  will  not  be  long 
enough  to  bring  to  maturity  the  fruit  of  a  delayed 
action.  If  a  star  or  planet  were  delayed  one  second,  it 
might  throw  the  whole  universe  out  of  harmony. 

“  There  is  no  moment  like  the  present,”  said  Maria 
Edgeworth ;  “  not  only  so,  there  is  no  moment  at  all; 
no  instant  force  and  energy,  but  in  the  present.  The 
man  who  will  not  execute  his  resolutions  when  they 
are  fresh  upon  him,  can  have  no  hopes  from  them  after¬ 
ward.  They  will  be  dissipated,  lost  in  the  hurry  and 
skurry  of  the  world,  or  sunk  in  the  slough  of  indo- 


“ON  TIME ” 


125 

lence.  Cobbett  said  he  owed,  bis  succ©ss  to  being 
“always  ready  ”*  more  than  to  all  bis  natural  abilities 
combined. 

“  You  cannot  batlie  twice  in  tbe  same  river/*  said 
Heraclitus. 

“How/*  asked  a  man  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  “do  you 
accomplish  so  mucli,  and  in  so  short  a  time  ?  ”  “  When 
I  have  anything  to  do,  I  go  and  do  it/*  was  the  reply. 
The  man  who  always  acts  promptly,  even  if  he  makes 
occasional  mistakes,  will  succeed  when  a  procrastinator 
will  fail  —  even  if  he  have  the  better  judgment. 

When  asked  how  he  managed  to  accomplish  so 
much  work,  and  at  the  same  time  attend  to  his  social 
duties,  a  French  statesman  replied,  “I  do  it  simply  by 
never  postponing  till  to-morrow  what  should  be  done 
to-day.**  It  was  said  of  an  unsuccessful  public  man 
that  he  used  to  reverse  this  process,  his  favorite  maxim 
being  “  never  to  do  to-day  what  might  be  postponed  till 
to-morrow.**  How  many  men  have  dawdled  away  their 
success  and  allowed  companions  and  relatives  to  steal  it 
away  five  minutes  at  a  time.  Amos  Lawrence’s  motto 
was,  “  Business  before  friends.’* 

“To-morrow,  didst  thou  say?”  asked  Cotton.  “Go 
to  —  I  will  not  hear  of  it.  To-morrow  !  *t  is  a  sharper 
who  stakes  his  penury  against  thy  plenty —who  takes 
thy  ready  cash  and  pays  thee  naught  but  wishes,  hopes, 
and  promises,  the  currency  of  idiots.  To-morrow  !  it  is  a 
!  period  nowhere  to  be  found  in  all  the  hoary  registers  of 
;  time,  unless  perchance  in  the  fool’s  calendar.  Wisdom 
disclaims  the  word,  nor  holds  society  with  those  that 
■  own  it-  ’T  is  fancy’s  child,  and  folly  is  its  father ; 

wrought  of  such  stuffs  as  dreams  are  ;  and  baseless  as 
:  the  fantastic  visions  of  the  evening.”  Oh,  how  many  a 
wreck  on  the  road  to  success  could  say :  “  I  have  spent 

1<4To  this  quality  I  owed  my  extraordinary  promotion  in  the  army,” 
said  Cobbett.  “  if  I  had  to  mount  guard  at  ten,  I  was  ready  at  nine  j 
never  did  any  man  or  anything  wait  one  minute  for  me.” 


126 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


all  my  life  in  pursuit  of  to-morrow,  being  assured  that 
to-morrow  has  some  vast  benefit  or  othei  in  store  for 
me.” 

“But  his  resolutions  remained  unshaken,”  Charles 
Reade  continues  in  his  story  of  Noah  Skinner,  the  de¬ 
faulting  clerk,  who  had  been  overcome  by  a  sleepy 
languor  after  deciding  to  make  restitution ;  “  by  and 
by,  waking  up  from  a  sort  of  heavy  doze,  he  took,  as  it 
were,  a  last  look  at  the  receipts,  and  murmured,  1  My 
head,  how  heavy  it  feels  ! ’  But  presently  he  roused 
himself,  full  of  his  penitent  resolutions,  and  murmured 
again,  brokenly,  1 1  ’ll  take  it  to  —  Pembroke  —  Street  ■ 
to — morrow  ;  to — morrow.’  The  morrow  found  him, 
and  so  did  the  detectives,  dead.” 

“  To-morrow  ?  ”  It  is  the  devil’s  motto.  All  history 
is  strewn  with  its  brilliant  victims,  the  wrecks  of  half- 
finished  plans  and  unexecuted  resolutions.  It  is  the 
favorite  refuge  of  sloth  and  incompetency. 

“  Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot,”  and  “  Make  hay  while 
the  sun  shines,”  are  golden  maxims.  Most  of  us  need 
a  spur  to  make  us  begin  and  to  hold  us  to  our  task. 

Very  few  people  recognize  the  hour  when  laziness 
begins  to  set  in.  Some  people  it  attacks  after  dinner ; 
some  after  lunch ;  and  some  after  seven  o’clock  in  the 
evening.  There  is  in  every  person’s  life  a  crucial  hour 
in  the  day,  which  must  be  employed  instead  of  wasted 
if  the  day  is  to  be  saved.  With  most  people  the  early 
morning  hour  becomes  the  test  of  the  day’s  success. 
Daniel  Webster  used  often  to  answer  twenty  to  thirty 
letters  before  breakfast. 

A  person  was  once  extolling  the  skill  and  courage  of  ! 
Mayenne  in  Henry’s  presence.  “  You  are  right,”  said 
Henry,  “  he  is  a  great  captain,  but  I  have  always  five 
hours’  start  of  him.”  Henry  rose  at  four  in  the  morn¬ 
ing,  and  Mayenne  at  about  ten.  This  made  all  the  dif¬ 
ference  between  them.  Indecision  becomes  a  disease 
and  procrastination  is  its  forerunner.  There  is  onlj 


“  ON  TIME.*1 


127 


one  known  remedy  for  tlie  victims  of  indecision,  and 
that  is  prompt  decision.  Otherwise  the  disease  is  fatal 
to  all  success  or  achievement.  He  who  hesitates  is  lost. 

A  noted  writer  says  that  a  bed  is  a  bundle  of  para¬ 
doxes.  We  go  to  it  with  reluctance,  yet  we  quit  it  with 
regret.  We  make  up  our  minds  every  night  to  leave  it 
early,  but  we  make  up  our  bodies  every  morning  to 
keep  it  late.  Yet  most  of  those  who  have  become  emi¬ 
nent  have  been  early  risers.  Peter  the  Great  always 
rose  before  daylight.  “I  am,”  said  he,  “ for  making 
my  life  as  long  as  possible,  and  therefore  sleep  as  little 
as  possible.”  Alfred  the  Great  rose  before  daylight. 
In  the  hours  of  early  morning  Columbus  planned  his 
voyage  to  America,  and  Napoleon  his  greatest  cam¬ 
paigns.  Copernicus  was  an  early  riser,  as  were  most 
of  the  famous  astronomers  of  ancient  and  modern  times. 


Bryant  rose  at  five,  Bancroft  at  dawn,  and  nearly  all 
our  leading  authors,  in  the  early  morning.  Washing¬ 
ton,  Jefferson,  Webster,  Clay,  and  Calhoun  were  all 
early  risers.  Henry  VIII.  breakfasted  at  seven  and 
dined  at  ten. 

John  Jacob  Astor  and  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  were  ac¬ 
customed  to  rise  at  set  times  each  morning,  and  to  retire 
at  definite  hours,  even  though  they  had  company. 

Walter  Scott  was  a  very  punctual  man.  This  was  the 
secret  of  his  enormous  achievements.  He  made  it  a 
rule  to  answer  all  letters  the  day  they  were  received. 
He  rose  at  five.  By  breakfast-time  he  had  broken  the 
neck  of  the  day’s  work,  as  he  used  to  say.  Writing  to 
a  youth  who  had  obtained  a  situation  and  asked  him  for 
advice,  he  gave  this  counsel :  “  Beware  of  stumbling 
over  a  propensity  which  easily  besets  you  from  not  hav¬ 
ing  your  time  fully  employed  —  I  mean  what  the  women 
call  dawdling.  Ho  instantly  whatever  is  to  be  done, 
and  take  the  hours  of  recreation  after  business,  never 
before  it.” 

Not  too  much  can  be  said  about  the  value  of  the 


128 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


habit  of  rising  early.  Late  rising  is  one  of  the  first 
signs  of  family  degeneracy.  Eight  hours  is  enough 
sleep  for  any  man.  Very  frequently  seven  hours  is 
plenty.  After  the  eighth  hour  in  bed,  if  a  man  is  able, 
it  is  his  business  to  get  up,  dress  quickly,  and  go  to 
work. 

“  A  singular  mischance  has  happened  to  some  of  our 
friends,”  said  Hamilton.  “At  the  instant  when  He 
ushered  them  into  existence,  God  gave  them  a  work  to 
do,  and  He  also  gave  them  a  competency  of  time ;  so 
much  that  if  they  began  at  the  right  moment,  and 
wrought  with  sufficient  vigor,  their  time  and  their  work 
would  end  together.  But  a  good  many  years  ago  a 
strange  misfortune  befell  them.  A  fragment  of  their 
allotted  time  was  lost.  They  cannot  tell  what  became 
of  it,  but  sure  enough,  it  has  dropped  out  of  existence  ; 
for  just  like  two  measuring-lines  laid  alongside,  the  one 
an  inch  shorter  than  the  other,  their  work  and  their 
time  run  parallel,  but  the  work  is  always  ten  minutes 
in  advance  of  the  time.  They  are  not  irregular.  They 
are  never  too  soon.  Their  letters  are  posted  the  very 
minute  after  the  mail  is  closed.  They  arrive  at  the 
wharf  just  in  time  to  see  the  steamboat  off,  they  come 
in  sight  of  the  terminus  precisely  as  the  station  gates 
are  closing.  They  do  not  break  any  engagement  nor 
neglect  any  duty ;  but  they  systematically  go  about  it 
too  late,  and  usually  too  late  by  about  the  same  fatal 
interval.” 

Some  one  has  said  that  “  promptness  is  a  contagious 
inspiration.”  Whether  it  be  an  inspiration,  or  an  ac¬ 
quirement,  it  is  one  of  the  practical  virtues  of  civiliza¬ 
tion. 

There  is  one  thing  that  is  almost  as  sacred  as  the 
marriage  relation,  —  that  is,  an  appointment.  A  man 
who  fails  to  meet  his  appointment,  unless  he  has  a  good 
reason,  is  practically  a  liar,  and  the  world  treats  him  as 
such. 


“  ON  TIME  .” 


129 

“I  give  it  as  my  deliberate  and  solemn  conviction,” 
said  Dr.  Fitch,  “  that  the  individual  who  is  tardy  in 
meeting  an  appointment  will  never  be  respected  or  suc¬ 
cessful  in  life.”  “If  a  man  has  no  regard  for  the  time 
of  other  men,”  said  Horace  Greeley,  “why  should  he 
have  for  their  money  ?  What  is  the  difference  between 
taking  a  man’s  hour  and  taking  his  five  dollars  ?  There 
are  many  men  to  whom  each  hour  of  the  business  day 
is  worth  more  than  five  dollars.” 

“  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  live,”  said  Ponrpey, 

“  ^  is  necessary  that  I  be  at  a  certain  point  at  a  cer¬ 

tain  hour.  ” 

When  President  Washington  dined  at  four,  new 
members  of  Congress  invited  to  dine  at  the  White 
House  would  sometimes  arrive  late,  and  be  mortified  to 
find  the  President  eating.  “My  cook,”  Washington 
would  say,  “never  asks  if  the  visitors  have  arrived,  but 
if  the  hour  has  arrived.” 

When  his  secretary  excused  the  lateness  of  his  at¬ 
tendance  by  saying  that  his  watch  was  too  slow,  Wash¬ 
ington  replied,  “  Then  you  must  get  a  new  watch,  or  I 
another  secretary.” 

Franklin  said  to  a  servant  who  was  always  late,  but 
always  ready  with  an  excuse,  “  I  have  generally  found 
that  the  man  who  is  good  at  an  excuse  is  good  for 
nothing  else.” 

#  eve  °f  Nelson’s  departure  on  a  famous  cruise, 

his  coachman  said  that  the  carriage  would  be  at  the  door 
punctually  at  six  o’clock.  “A  quarter  before,”  said  the 
admiral;  “I  have  always  been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  be¬ 
fore  my  time,  and  it  has  made  a  man  of  me.” 

Napoleon  once  invited  his  marshals  to  dine  with  him, 
but,  as  they  did  not  arrive  at  the  moment  appointed,  he 
began  to  eat  without  them.  They  came  in  just  as  he 
was  rising  from  the  table.  “ Gentlemen,”  said  he,  “it 
is  now  past  dinner,  and  we  will  immediately  proceed  to 
business.” 


130  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

Bliicher  was  one  of  the  promptest  men  that  evei 
lived.  He  was  called  “  Marshal  Forward.”  John  Q 
Adams  was  never  known  to  be  behind  time.  The 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  knew  when  to 
call  the  House  to  order  by  seeing  Mr.  Adams  coming  to 
his  seat.  Once  a  member  said  that  it  was  time  to  be¬ 
gin.  “No,”  said  another,  “Mr.  Adams  is  not  in  his 
seat.”  It  was  found  that  the  clock  was  three  minutes 
fast,  and  prompt  to  the  minute,  Mr.  Adams  arrived. 

Lord  Brougham,  who,  in  addition  to  other  arduous 
duties,  presided  in  the  House  of  Lords,  the  Court  of 
Chancery,  and  at  the  meetings  of  nearly  a  dozen  literary 
associations,  was  uniformly  in  his  chair  at  the  appointed 
minute.  He  was  as  punctual  as  the  clock. 

Webster  was  never  late  at  a  recitation  in  school  or 
college.  In  court,  in  congress,  in  society,  he  was 
equally  punctual.  Amid  the  cares  and  distractions  of  a 
singularly  busy  life,  Horace  Greeley  managed  to  be  on 
time  for  every  appointment.  Many  a  trenchant  para¬ 
graph  for  the  “  Tribune,”  was  written  while  the  editor 
was  waiting  for  men  of  leisure,  tardy  at  some  meeting. 

The  comet  which  visits  our  atmosphere  but  once  in  a 
thousand  years  is  never  a  single  second  behind  time. 

Punctuality  is  the  soul  of  business,  as  brevity  of  wit. 

Every  business  man  knows  that  there  are  moments 
on  which  hang  the  destiny  of  years.  If  you  arrive  a 
few  moments  late  at  the  bank,  your  paper  may  be  pro- 
tested  and  your  credit  ruined.  During  the  first  seven 
years  of  his  mercantile,  career,  Amos  Lawrence  did  not  ? 
permit  a  bill  to  remain  unsettled  over  Sunday.  Pune-  i 
tuality  is  said  to  be  the  politeness  of  kings.  Some  men  • 
are  always  running  to  catch  up  with  their  business ; 
they  are  always  in  a  hurry,  and  give  you  the  impression  i 
that  they  are  late  for  a  train.  They  lack  method,  and 
seldom  accomplish  much. 

One  of  the  best  things  about  school  and  college  life  is 
that  the  bell  which  strikes  the  hour  for  rising,  for  reel* 


«  ON  TIME” 


181 

fcations,  or  for  lectures,  teaches  habits  of  promptness. 
Every  young  man  should  have  a  watch  which  is  a  good 
timekeeper ;  one  that  is  nearly  right  encourages  bad ' 
habits,  and  is  an  expensive  investment  at  any  price. 
VV  ear  threadbare  clothes  if  you  must,  but  never  carry 
an  inaccurate  watch. 

“Oh,  how  I  do  appreciate  a  boy  who  is  always  on 
:ime  !  ”  says  H.  C.  Brown.  “  How  quickly  you  learn 
to  depend  on  him,  and  how  soon  you  find  yourself 
intrusting  him  with  weightier  matters  !  The  boy  who 
has  acquired  a  reputation  for  punctuality  has  made 
the  first  contribution  to  the  capital  that  in  after  years 
makes  his  success  a  certainty  !  ” 

Promptness  is  the  mother  of  confidence  and  giveg 
credit.  It  is  the  best  possible  proof  that  our  own  affairs 
are  well  ordered  and  well  conducted,  and  gives  others 
confidence  in  our  ability.  The  man  who  keeps  his  time 
(i.  e.,  is  punctual),  as  a  rule,  will  keep  his  word. 

Keep  your  business  as  her  Majesty  keeps  her  ships, 
always  in  trim  in  every  detail,  ready  for  immediate  ac¬ 
tion. 

“  Better  late  than  never  ”  is  not  half  so  good  a  maxim 
as  “  Better  never  late.” 

A  conductor’s  watch  is  behind  time,  and  a  frightful 
railway  collision  occurs.  A  leading  firm  with  enormous 
assets  becomes  bankrupt,  because  an  agent  is  tardy  in 
transmitting  available  funds,  as  ordered.  An  innocent 
man  is  hanged  because  the  messenger  bearing  a  reprieve 
should  have  arrived  five  minutes  earlier.  A  man  is 
stopped  five  minutes  to  hear  a  trivial  story  and  misses 
a  train  or  steamer  by  one  minute. 

Grant  decided  to  enlist  the  moment  that  he  learned 
of  the  fall  of  Sumter.  When  Buckner  sent  him  a  flag 
of  truce  at  Fort  Donelson,  asking  for  the  appointment 
of  commissioners  to  consider  terms  of  capitulation,  he 
promptly  replied:  “No  terms  except  an  unconditional 
and  immediate  surrender  can  be  accepted.  I  propose 


132 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


to  move  immediately  upon  your  works.”  Buckner  re¬ 
plied  that  circumstances  compelled  him  “  to  accept  the 
•  ungenerous  and  unchivalrous  terms  which  you  propose.” 

The  man  who,  like  Napoleon,  can  on  the  instant  seize 
the  most  important  thing  and  sacrifice  the  others,  is 
sure  to  succeed.  Men  often  fail  because  they  want  to 
think  the  whole  matter  over  before  making  any  sacrifice ; 
but  the  choice  of  the  one  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  others 
come  together. 

“We  are  all  so  indolent  by  nature  and  by  habit,”  said 
John  Todd,  “that  we  feel  it  a  luxury  to  find  a  man  of 
real,  undeviating  punctuality.  We  love  to  lean  upon 
such  a  man,  and  we  are  willing  to  purchase  such  a  staff 
at  almost  any  price.  It  shows,  at  least,  that  he  has  con¬ 
quered  himself.” 

Many  a  wasted  life  dates  its  ruin  from  a  lost  five 
minutes.  “  Too  late  ”  can  be  read  between  the  lines 
on  the  tombstone  of  many  a  man  who  has  failed.  A 
few  minutes  often  makes  all  the  difference  between 
victory  and  defeat,  success  and  failure. 


i 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY. 


I  have  gout,  asthma,  and  seven  other  maladies,  but  am  otherwise  very 
well. —  Sydney  Smith. 

I  feel  and  grieve,  but,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  fret  at  nothing. —John 
Wesley. 

This  one  sits  shivering  in  Fortune’s  smile, 

Taking  his  joy  with  bated,  doubtful  breath  ; 

This  other,  gnawed  by  hunger,  all  the  while 
Laughs  in  the  teeth  of  death. 

T.  B.  Aldrich. 

Anxiety  never  yet  successfully  bridged  over  any  chasm.  —  Ruffini. 

“  For  every  evil  under  the  sun, 

There  is  a  remedy,  or  there  is  none  ; 

If  there  be  one,  try  and  find  it: 

If  there  be  none,  never  mind  it.” 


On  morning  wings  how  active  springs  the  mind 
That  leaves  the  load  of  yesterday  behind. 

Pope. 

Blessed  are  the  joy- makers. 

Willis. 

’T  is  always  morning  somewhere,  and  above 
The  awakening  continents,  from  shore  to  shore, 

Somewhere  the  birds  are  singing  evermore. 

Longfellow. 

The  cheerful  live  longest  in  years,  and  afterward  in  our  regards. — 
Bovee. 


Wondrous  is  the  strength  of  cheerfulness,  altogether  past  calculation  its 
powers  of  endurance.  Efforts  to  be  permanently  useful  must  be  uniformly 
joyous,  — a  spirit  all  sunshine,  graceful  from  very  gladness,  beautiful  be¬ 
cause  bright. — Carlyle. 

There ’s  a  good  time  coming,  boys,  a  good  time  coming  : 

Let  us  aid  it  all  we  can,  every  woman,  every  man. 

Macray. 


Goldsmith  says  that  one  of  the  happiest  persons  he 
ever  saw  was  a  slave  in  the  fortifications  at  Flanders, 
• —  a  man  with  blit  one  leg,  deformed,  and  chained.  He 
was  condemned  to  slavery  for  life,  and  had  to  work 


134 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


from  dawn  till  dark,  yet  lie  seemed  to  see  only  the 
bright  side  of  everything.  He  laughed  and  sang,  and 
appeared  the  happiest  man  in  the  garrison. 

“  It  is  from  these  enthusiastic  fellows/’  says  an  ad* 
mirer,  “  that  you  hear  —  what  they  fully  believe,  bless 
them  !  —  that  all  countries  are  beautiful,  all  dinners 
grand,  all  pictures  superb,  all  mountains  high,  all  wo* 
men  beautiful.  When  such  a  one  has  come  back  from 
his  country  trip,  after  a  hard  year’s  work,  he  has  always 
found  the  cosiest  of  nooks,  the  cheapest  houses,  the 
best  of  landladies,  the  finest  views,  and  the  best  dinners. 
But  with  the  other  the  case  is  indeed  altered.  He  has 
always  been  robbed ;  he  has  positively  seen  nothing ; 
his  landlady  was  a  harpy,  his  bedroom  was  unhealthy, 
and  the  mutton  was  so  tough  that  he  could  not  get  his 
teeth  through  it.” 

A  gentleman  in  Minneapolis  owned  a  business  block 
which  was  completely  gutted  by  lire.  The  misfortune 
produced  a  melancholy  that  boded  ill  for  his  mind.  In 
vain  his  friends  tried  to  cheer  him.  Nothing  could 
dispel  the  impenetrable  gloom.  He  was  almost  on  the 
point  of  suicide.  He  was  away  from  home  when  the 
disaster  occurred,  and  received  the  following  letter  from 
his  little  seven-year-old  daughter  :  — 

“  Dear  Papa,  —  I  went  down  to  see  your  store  that 
was  burned,  and  it  looks  very  pretty  all  covered  with  ice. 
Love  and  kisses  from  Lilian.” 

The  father  smiled  as  he  read ;  and  the  man  who  had 
contemplated  jumping  from  the  train  laughed  aloud. 
The  spell  that  had  overshadowed  him  was  at  last  broken 
by  this  ray  of  sunshine. 

A  cheerful  man  is  preeminently  a  useful  man.  He 
does  not  cramp  his  mind,  nor  take  half-views  of  men 
and  things.  He  knows  that  there  is  much  misery,  but 
that  misery  need  not  be  the  rule  of  life.  He  sees  that 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  135 

in  every  state  people  may  be  cheerful ;  the  lambs  skip, 
birds  sing  and  fly  joyously,  puppies  play,  kittens  are 
full  of  joyance,  the  whole  air  full  of  careering  and  re¬ 
joicing  insects ;  that  everywhere  the  good  outbalances 
the  bad,  and  that  every  evil  has  its  compensating  balm. 

“  You  are  on  the  shady  side  of  seventy,  I  expect  ?  ” 
was  asked  of  an  old  mam  “  No,”  was  the  reply,  “  I  am 
on  the  sunny  side ;  for  I  am  on  the  side  nearest  to 
glory.” 

Travelers  are  told  by  the  Icelanders,  who  live  amid 
the  cold  and  desolation  of  almost  perpetual  winter,  that 
“  Iceland  is  the  best  land  the  sun  shines  upon.” 

When  Pandora  out  of  curiosity  removed  the  lid  from 
the  great  box  in  which  Hesiod  says  the  gods  had  inclosed 
all  human  miseries,  they  flew  abroad  through  the  earth, 
but  Hope  remained  at  the  bottom,  the  antidote  for  all. 

Doctor  Marshall  Hall  frequently  prescribed  “  cheerful¬ 
ness  ”  for  his  patients,  saying  that  it  was  better  than 
anything  they  could  get  at  the  apothecary’s.  u  A  merry 
heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine.”  Health  is  the  con¬ 
dition  of  wisdom,  and  the  sign  is  cheerfulness.  Half 
the  people  we  meet  think  they  have  something  about 
them  which  will  ultimately  kill  them,  and  live  in  chronic 
dread  of  death.  What  is  even  worse,  they  seem  anxious 
that  other  people  should  share  with  them  the  “  enjoy¬ 
ment  of  bad  health,”  and  are  ready  to  tell  them  at  the 
slightest  provocation. 

You  must  take  joy  with  you ,  or  you  will  not  jlnd  it , 
even  in  heaven.  He  who  hoards  his  joys  to  make  them 
more  is  like  the  man  who  said  :  u  I  will  keep  my  grain 
from  mice  and  birds,  and  neither  the  ground  nor  the 
mill  shall  have  it.  What  fools  are  they  who  throw  away 
upon  the  earth  whole  handfuls.” 

u  Nothing  will  supply  the  want  of  sunshine  to 
peaches,”  said  Emerson,  “  and  to  make  knowledge  valu¬ 
able,  you  must  have  the  cheerfulness  of  wisdom.”  In 
answer  to  the  question,  11  How  shall  we  overcome  temp 


186 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


tation,”  a  noted  writer  said,  “  Cheerfulness  is  the  first 
thing,  cheerfulness  is  the  second,  and  cheerfulness  is 
the  third.”  A  habit  of  cheerfulness,  enabling  one  to 
transmute  apparent  misfortunes  into  real  blessings,  is  a 
fortune  to  a  young  man  or  young  woman  just  crossing 
the  threshold  of  active  life.  He  who  has  formed  a  habit 
of  looking  at  the  bright,  happy  side  of  things,  who  sees  ! 
the  glory  in  the  grass,  the  sunshine  in  the  flowers,  ser¬ 
mons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything,  has  a  great 
advantage  over  the  chronic  dyspeptic,  who  sees  no  good 
in  anything.  His  habitual  thought  sculptures  his  face 
into  beauty  and  touches  his  manner  with  grace. 

“  Of  all  virtues,”  says  S.  C.  Goodrich,  “  cheerfulness 
is  the  most  profitable.  While  other  virtues  defer  the 
day  of  recompense,  cheerfulness  pays  down.  It  is  a  cos¬ 
metic  which  makes  homeliness  graceful  and  winning. 

It  promotes  health  and  gives  clearness  and  vigor  to  the 
mind ;  it  is  the  bright  weather  of  the  heart  in  contrast 
with  the  clouds  and  gloom  of  melancholy.” 

“  The  spirit  that  could  conjure  up  a  Hamlet  or  a  Lear 
would  have  broken  had  it  not  possessed,  as  well,  the 
humor  which  could  produce  a  Falstaff,  and  the  ‘Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor.’”  The  London  “Lancet”  the  most 
eminent  medical  journal  in  the  world,  gives  the  follow¬ 
ing  scientific  testimony  of  the  value  of  good  spirits  :  — 

“  This  power  of  ‘  good  spirits  ’  is  a  matter  of  high 
moment  to  the  sick  and  weakly.  To  the  former  it  may 
mean  the  ability  to  survive ;  to  the  latter,  the  possibil¬ 
ity  of  outliving,  or  living  in  spite  of,  a  disease.  It  is, 
therefore,  of  the  greatest  importance  to  cultivate  the 
highest  and  most  buoyant  frame  of  mind  which  the  con¬ 
ditions  will  admit.  The  same  energy  which  takes  the 
form  of  mental  activity  is  vital  to  the  work  of  the  organ¬ 
ism.  Mental  influences  affect  the  system,  and  a  joyous 
spirit  not  only  relieves  pain,  but  increases  the  momen¬ 
tum  of  life  in  the  body.” 

.  “  I  find  nonsense  singularly  refreshing,”  said  Talley* 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  137 

rand.  There  is  good  philosophy  in  the  saying,  “  Laugh 
and  grow  fat.”  If  everybody  knew  the  power  of  laugh¬ 
ter  as  a  health  tonic  and  life  prolonger,  the  tinge  of  sad¬ 
ness  which  now  clouds  the  American  face  would  largely 
disappear,  and  thousands  of  physicians  would  find  their 
occupation  gone.  The  power  of  laughter  was  given  us 
to  serve  a  wise  purpose  in  our  economy.  It  is  Nature’s 
device  for  exercising  the  internal  organs  and  giving  us 
pleasure  at  the  same  time.  Laughter  begins  in  the  lungs 
and  diaphragm,  setting  the  liver,  stomach,  and  other  in¬ 
ternal  organs  into  a  quick,  jelly-like  vibration,  which 
gives  a  pleasant  sensation  and  exercise,  almost  equal 
to  horseback  riding.  The  heart  beats  faster,  sends  the 
blood  bounding  through  the  body,  increases  the  respira¬ 
tion,  and  gives  warmth  and  glow  to  the  whole  system. 
Laughter  brightens  the  eye,  increases  the  perspiration, 
expands  the  chest,  forces  the  poisoned  air  from  the  least- 
used  lung  cells,  and  tends  to  restore  that  exquisite  poise 
or  balance  which  we  call  health,  and  which  results  from 
the  harmonious  action  of  all  the  functions  of  the  body. 
This  delicate  poise,  which  may  be  destroyed  by  a  sleep¬ 
less  night,  a  piece  of  bad  news,  by  grief  or  anxiety,  is 
often  wholly  restored  by  a  good  hearty  laugh.  A  jolly 
physician  is  often  better  than  all  his  pills. 

It  is  not  the  troubles  of  to-day,  but  those  of  to-mor¬ 
row  and  next  week  and  next  year,  that  whiten  our  heads 
and  wrinkle  our  faces. 

“Cries  little  Miss  Fret, 

In  a  very  great  pet  : 

*  I  hate  this  warm  weather  ;  it ’s  horrid  to  tan. 

It  scorches  my  nose, 

And  it  blisters  my  toes, 

And  wherever  I  go  I  must  carry  a  fan.* 

“Chirps  little  Miss  Laugh  : 

‘  Why,  I  could  n’t  tell  half 
The  fun  I  am  having  this  bright  summer  day. 

I  sing  through  the  hours, 

I  cull  pretty  flowers, 

And  ride  like  a  queen  on  the  sweet-smelling  hay.’  ” 


138 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  Men  are  not  made  to  hang  down  either  heads  o* 
lips/7  says  a  modern  writer.  “It  is  the  duty  of  every 
one  to  extract  all  the  happiness  and  enjoyment  he  can 
without  and  within  him,  and,  above  all,  he  should  look 
on  the  bright  side  of  things.  As  well  might  fog,  and 
cloud,  and  vapor  hope  to  cling  to  the  sun-illumined  i 
landscape,  as  the  blues  and  moroseness  to  remain  in  an^  i 
countenance  when  the  cheerful  one  comes  with  a  hearty 
*'  good-morning.7  Don’t  forget  to  say  it,  with  a  smile,  to 
all  you  meet.  A  busy  life  cannot  well  be  otherwise  than  i 
cheerful.  Frogs  do  not  croak  in  running  water.77  i 

“  I  have  told  you,77  says  Southey,  “  of  the  Spaniard  i 
who  always  put  on  spectacles  when  about  to  eat  cherries,  i 
in  order  that  the  fruit  might  look  larger  and  more  tempt¬ 
ing.  In  like  manner  I  make  the  most  of  my  enjoy-  i 
ments  ;  and  though  I  do  not  cast  my  eyes  away  from  i 
my  troubles,  I  pack  them  in  as  small  a  compass  as  I  can  ( 
for  myself,  and  never  let  them  annoy  others.77  We  all  f 
know  the  power  of  good  cheer  to  magnify  everything.  1 
When  Garrison  was  locked  up  in  the  Boston  city  I  j 
jail,  he  said  he  had  two  delightful  companions,  —  a  good  i 
conscience  and  a  cheerful  mind.  It  was  Lincoln’s  cheer-  i 
fulness  that  enabled  him  to  stand  up  under  the  terrible  i 
load  of  the  Civil  War.  His  jests  and  quaint  stories 
lightened  the  gloom  of  the  darkest  hours  of  the  nation’s  t 
peril.  1 

About  two  things  we  should  never  fret,  that  which  we  ] 
cannot  help,  and  that  which  we  can  help.  Better  find  I  s 
one  of  your  own  faults  than  ten  of  your  neighbor’s. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  was  the  greatest  joker  in  col¬ 
lege,  and  shocked  many  church  people  because  he  was 
so  full  of  fun.  His  sister,  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  said 
he  was  like  “  a  converted  bobolink  who  should  be 
brought  to  judgment  for  short  quirks  and  undignified 
twitters  and  tweedles  among  the  daisy-heads,  instead  of 
flying  in  dignified  paternal  sweeps  like  a  good  swallow 
of  the  sanctuary,  or  sitting  in  solemnized  meditation  in 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  139 


the  depths  of  the  pine-trees  like  the  owl.”  Solemnity 
was  regarded  then  as  evidence  of  Christian  character ; 
but  this  cheerful  preacher  has  done  much  to  show  that 
religion  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world. 

Helen  Hunt  says  there  is  one  sin  which  seems  to  be 
everywhere,  and  by  everybody  is  underestimated  and 
quite  too  much  overlooked  in  valuations  of  character. 

It  is  the  sin  of  fretting.  It  is  as  common  as  air,  as 
speech ;  so  common  that  unless  it  rises  above  its  usual 
monotone  we  do  not  even  observe  it.  Watch  any  ordi¬ 
nary  coming  together  of  people,  and  we  see  how  many 
minutes  it  will  be  before  somebody  frets  —  that  is, 
makes  more  or  less  complaint  of  something  or  other, 
which  probably  every  one  in  the  room,  or  car,  or  on  the 
street  corner  knew  before,  and  which  most  probably 
nobody  can  help.  Why  say  anything  about  it  ?  It  is 
cold,  it  is  hot,  it  is  wet,  it  is  dry,  somebody  has  broken 
an  appointment,  ill-cooked  a  meal ;  stupidity  or  bad 
faith  somewhere  has  resulted  in  discomfort.  There  are 
plenty  of  things  to  fret  about.  It  is  simply  astonish¬ 
ing,  how  much  annoyance  and  discomfort  may  be  found 
in  the  course  of  every-day  living,  even  of  the  simplest, 
if  one  only  keeps  a  sharp  eye  out  on  that  side  of  things. 
Some  people  seem  to  be  always  hunting  for  deformities, 
discords,  and  shadows,  instead  of  beauty,  harmony,  and 
light.  We  are  born  to  trouble,  as  sparks  fly  upward. 
But  even  to  the  sparks  flying  upward,  in  the  blackest  of 
smoke,  there  is  a  blue  sky  above,  and  the  less  time  they  * 
waste  on  the  road,  the  sooner  they  will  reach  it.  Fret¬ 
ting  i§  all  time  wasted  on  the  road. 

Wordsworth,  elseAvhere  sombre  enough,  in  the  most 
splendid  ode  ever  written  by  mortal  pen,  saw  wonder  in 
the  grass  and  glory  in  the  flower ;  and  that  “  land  and 
sea  gave  themselves  up  to  jollity ;  ”  and  this  was  to 
his,  one  of  the  most  reflective  minds  we  have  ever  had. 
enough  to  inspire  perpetual  benedictions. 

How  true  it  is  that  if  we  are  cheerful  and  contented; 


140 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


all  nature  smiles  with  us  •  the  air  seems  more  balmy, 
the  sky  more  clear,  the  earth  has  a  brighter  green,  the 
trees  have  a  richer  foliage,  the  flowers  are  more  fra- 
grant,  the  birds  sing  more  sweetly,  and  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars  all  appear  more  beautiful. 

“  If  a  word  or  two  will  render  a  man  happy,”  said  a 
Frenchman,  “  he  must  be  a  wretch  indeed,  who  will  not 
give  it.  It  is  like  lighting  another  man’s  candle  with 
your  own,  which  loses  none  of  its  brilliancy  by  what 
the  other  gains.” 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  wrote,  “Give  me  an*  honest 
laugher,”  was  one  of  the  happiest  men  in  the  world. 
He  had  a  kind  word  and  a  pleasant  smile  for  every  one, 
and  everybody  loved  him.  He  once  threw  a  stone  at  a 
dog,  and  broke  his  leg.  The  poor  creature  crawled  up 
to  him,  dragging  the  broken  leg,  and  licked  his  foot. 
It  almost  broke  his  heart.  He  said  it  caused  him  the 
deepest  remorse  of  his  life. 

“  I  dare  no  more  fret  than  I  dare  curse  and  swear,” 
said  John  Wesley. 

Habitual  fretters  see  more  trouble  than  others.  They 
are  never  so  well  as  their  neighbors.  The  weather 
never  suits  them.  The  climate  is  trying.  The  winds 
are  too  high  or  too  low ;  it  is  too  hot  or  too  cold,  too 
damp  or  too  dry.  The  roads  are  either  muddy  or  dusty. 

“  Mirth  is  God’s  medicine,”  says  a  wise  writer ;  “  every¬ 
body  ought  to  bathe  in  it.  Grim  care,  moroseness, 
anxiety  —  all  the  rust  of  life,  ought  to  be  scoured  off 
by  the  oil  of  mirth.”  It  is  better  than  emery.  Every 
man  ought  to  rub  himself  with  it.  A  man  without 
mirth  is  like  a  wagon  without  springs,  in  which  one  is 
caused  disagreeably  to  jolt  by  every  pebble  over  which 
it  runs.  A  man  with  mirth  is  like  a  chariot  with  springs, 
in  which  one  can  ride  over  the  roughest  roads  and 
scarcely  feel  anything  but  a  pleasant  rocking  motion. 

I  ndoubtedly  we  could  trace  much  of  the  moroseness 
in  our  bones  past  dyspepsia,  back  to  our  Puritan  ances« 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  141 


tors  who  groaned  as  they  worshiped,  and  who  for  the 
glory  of  God  pulled  faces  as  long  as  a  yardstick.  They 
were  the  people  who,  like  Jacques,  sucked  “  melan¬ 
choly  out  of  a  song,  as  a  weasel  sucks  eggs.” 

But  we  have  arrived  at  a  new  and  better  understand¬ 
ing  of  the  religion  of  Christ.  God  is  glorified,  not  by 
our  groans,  but  by  our  thanksgivings ;  and  all  good 
thought  and  good  action  claim  a  natural  alliance  with 
good  cheer. 

Christ  said,  “  to-day,”  not  next  year,  not  at  Judgment 
day,  but  “  to-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me,”  not  in  pur¬ 
gatory,  but  “  in  paradise.”  How  long  will  humanity 
persist  in  harboring  thoughts  of  wickedness  and  woe, 
and  insisting  that  we  live  in  a  hopeless,  cheerless  world 
where  sin  and  death  shall  forever  perpetuate  them¬ 
selves  ?  Can  we  not  see  that  sin  and  death  are  self¬ 
destructive,  and  must  ultimately  work  their  own  anni¬ 
hilation  ?  that  discord  will  finally  be  swallowed  up  in 
harmony,  darkness  in  light,  error  in  truth,  disease  in 
health,  sorrow  in  joy  ?  Why  not  enter  the  protest  of 
our  belief  and  example  against  the  habit  of  forever 
dwelling  upon  deformity,  disease,  and  discord  ? 

Anxiety  and  care  may  be  read  on  nearly  every  Amer¬ 
ican  face,  telling  the  story  of  our  too  serious  civiliza¬ 
tion.  Bent  forms,  premature  gray  hair,  heavy  steps,  and 
feverish  haste  are  indicative  of  American  life.  Rest¬ 
lessness  and  discontent  have  become  chronic,  and  are 
characteristic  of  our  age  and  nation.  Thousands  of  our 
people  die  annually  from  depressed  spirits,  disappointed 
hopes,  thwarted  ambitions,  and  premature  exhaustion. 
We  have  not  yet  learned  to  cultivate  that  high-minded 
cheerfulness  which  is  found  in  great  souls,  self-centred 
and  confident  in  their  own  heaven-aided  powers  —  that 
lofty  cheerfulness  which  is  the  great  preventive  of 
humanity’s  ills.  We  have  not  yet  learned,  as  a  people, 
that  grief,  anxiety,  and  fear,  are  the  great  enemies  of 
human  life,  and  should  be  resisted  as  we  resist  the 


142 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


plague.  Without  cheerfulness  there  can  be  no  health}/ 
action,  physical,  mental,  or  moral,  for  it  is  the  normal 
atmosphere  of  our  being. 

But  oh,  for  the  glorious  spectacles  worn  by  the  good* 
natured  man !  —  oh,  for  those  wondrous  glasses,  finei 
than  the  Claude  Lorraine  glass,  which  throw  a  sunlit 
view  over  everything,  and  make  the  heart  glad  with  little 
things,  and  thankful  for  small  mercies  !  Such  glasses 
had  honest  Izaak  Walton,  who,  coming  in  from  a  fishing 
expedition  on  the  river  Lea,  bursts  out  into  such  grate¬ 
ful  little  talks  as  this  :  “Let  us,  as  we  walk  home  under 

i 

the  cool  shade  of  this  honeysuckle  hedge,  mention  some 
of  the  thoughts  and  joys  that  have  possessed  my  soul 
since  we  two  met.  And  that  our  present  happiness  may 
appear  the  greater,  and  we  more  thankful  for  it,  I  beg 
you  to  consider  with  me,  how  many  do  at  this  very  time 
lie  under  the  torment  of  the  gout  or  the  toothache,  and 
this  we  have  been  free  from ;  and  let  me  tell  you,  that 
every  misery  I  miss  is  a  new  blessing.” 

Worry  is  a  disease.  It  sometimes  becomes  a  crime. 
In  some  States  the  unsuccessful  suicide  is  arrested  on 
the  charge  of  homicide.  Some  people  ought  to  be  in¬ 
carcerated  for  disturbing  the  family  peace,  and  for 
troubling  the  public  welfare,  on  the  charge  of  intolerable 
fretfulness  and  touchiness.  And  it  is  this  incessant 
care,  this  mordant  anxiety  that  is  to  blame  for  our 
second  national  vice  —  hurry.  Of  course  every  one  will 
recognize  the  fact  that  worry  is  the  vice  for  which  as  a 
nation  we  are  remarkable.  “Touchiness”  is  a  modern 
disease. 

“  Every  man  we  meet  looks  as  if  he ’d  gone  out  to 
borrow  trouble,  with  plenty  of  it  on  hand,”  said  a 
French  lady  driving  in  New  York. 

How  quickly  wre  Americans  exhaust  life  !  With  what 
panting  haste  we  pursue  everything  !  Every  man  yon 
meet  seems  to  be  late  for  an  appointment.  Hurry  is 
stamped  in  the  wrinkles  of  the  American  face  We  are 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  143 

men  of  action ;  we  die  without  it ;  nay,  we  go  faster  and 
faster  as  the  years  go  by,  speed  our  machinery  to  the 
utmost,  stretch  the  silver  cord  of  life  until  it  snaps.  We 
have  not  even  leisure  to  die  a  natural  death ;  we  go  at 
high  pressure  until  the  boiler  bursts.  We  have  actually 
changed  the  type  of  our  diseases,  to  suit  our  changed 
constitution.  Instead  of  the  lingering  maladies  of  our 
fathers,  we  drop  down  and  die  of  heart  disease  or  apo¬ 
plexy.  Even  death  has  adopted  our  terrible  gait. 

“  It  is  not  work  that  kills  men,”  says  Beecher  ;  “  it  is 
worry.  Work  is  healthy  ;  you  can  hardly  put  more  on 
a  man  than  he  can  bear.  But  worry  is  rust  upon  the 
blade.  It  is  not  movement  that  destroys  the  machinery, 
but  friction.” 

The  busy  bee  stops  not  to  complain  that  there  are  so 
many  poisonous  flowers  and  thorny  boughs  in  his  path, 
nor  that  disgusting  bugs  and  flies  are  but  soiling  the 
flower  from  which  he  would  gather  sweets,  but  buzzes 
on,  sucking  up  honey  wherever  he  can  find  it,  and 
passing  quietly  by  the  places  where  it  is  not. 

“  It  is  not  the  cares  of  to-day,”  says  George  Macdonald, 
“  but  the  cares  of  to-morrow  that  weigh  a  man  down. 
Bor  the  needs  of  to-day  we  have  corresponding  strength 
given.” 

li  How  much  have  cost  us  the  evils  that  never  hap¬ 
pened!”  exclaims  Jefferson. 

“  Do  not  anticipate  trouble,”  says  Franklin,  “  or  worry 
about  what  may  never  happen.  Keep  in  the  sunlight. 

Charles  Lamb  tells  of  a  chronic  grumbler  who  always 
complained  at  whist,  because  he  had  so  few  trumps. 
P>y  some  artifice  his  companions  managed  to  deal  him 
the  whole  thirteen,  hoping  to  extort  some  expression  of 
satisfaction,  but  he  only  looked  more  wretched  than 
ever  as  he  examined  his  hand.  “Well,  Tom,”  said 
Lamb,  “  have  n’t  you  trumps  enough  this  time  ?  ” 
w Yes,”  grunted  Tom,  “but  I’ve  no  other  cards.” 

The  Puritans  went  through  life  tormented  with  the 


144 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


fear  of  sin  and  terror  of  the  Judgment  Day,  and  theit 
melancholy  taints  their  descendants.  We  are  a  nation 
of  dyspeptics.  We  can  earn  our  bread,  but  cannot  digest 
it.  We  believe  “there  is  not  a  string  tuned  to  mirth, 
but  has  its  chord  of  melancholy/’  that  evil  always  stands 
behind  good,  and  that  the  devil  always  has  the  whisk 
of  his  tail  in  everything.  It  seems  impossible  for  some 
people  to  rid  themselves  of  an  inherent  gloom  which 
colors  their  whole  life.  They  cannot  enjoy  a  beautiful 
day.  To  them  it  is  only  one  of  those  infernal  “  weather- 
breeders.”  Their  lives  are  set  to  a  minor  key,  and 
they  hear  only  plaintive  sounds.  Our  religious  creeds, 
philosophy,  and  hymns  are  tinged  with  the  spleen  of 
jaundice  of  unfortunate  authors  who  sometimes  mistook 
bile  for  inspiration. 

Many  writers  have  honestly  believed  they  were  giving 
the  world  valuable  religious  doctrines,  when  in  reality 
they  were  writing  an  account  of  their  own  jaundice  and 
dyspepsia. 

Calvin,  though  unquestionably  honest,  was  a  dyspep¬ 
tic  and  could  eat  but  once  a  day.  Who  can  say  that 
his  writings  were  not  tinged  by  his  malady  ?  How  can 
men  shut  out  from  the  pure  air  and  sunlight  in  convents 
and  studies,  away  from  the  great  throbbing,  pulsing 
heart  of  Nature  and  humanity,  write  healthy,  vigorous, 
religious  doctrines  for  a  hardy,  healthy,  robust,  and 
practical  world  ? 

We  should  fight  against  every  influence  which  tends 
to  depress  the  mind,  as  we  would  against  a  temptation 
to  crime.  A  depressed  mind  prevents  the  free  action  of 
the  diaphragm  and  the  expansion  of  the  chest.  It  stops 
the  secretions  of  the  body,  interferes  with  the  circula¬ 
tion  of  the  blood  in  the  brain,  and  deranges  the  entire 
functions  of  the  body.  Scrofula  and  consumption  often 
follow  protracted  depression  of  mind.  That  “fatal 
murmur”  which  is  heard  in  the  upper  lobes  of  the  lungs 
in  the  first  stages  of  consumption,  often  follows  do 


CHEERFULNESS  AND  LONGEVITY.  145 

pressed  spirits  after  some  great  misfortune  or  sorrow. 
Victims  of  suicide  are  almost  always  in  a  depressed 
state  from  exhausted  vitality,  loss  of  nervous  energy, 
dyspepsia,  worry,  anxiety,  trouble,  or  grief, 

Christ  the  great  Teacher  did  not  shut  himself  up 
with  monks,  away  from  temptation  of  the  great  world 
outside.  He  taught  no  long-faced,  gloomy  theology. 
He  taught  the  gospel  of  gladness  and  good  cheer.  His 
doctrines  are  touched  with  the  sunlight,  and  flavored 
with  the  flowers  of  the  fields.  The  birds  of  the  air,  the 
beasts  of  the  field,  and  happy,  romping  children  are 
in  them.  True  piety  is  cheerful  as  the  day. 

Joy  is  the  mainspring  in  the  whole 
Of  endless  Nature’s  calm  rotation. 

Joy  moves  the  dazzling  wheels  that  roll 
In  the  gx  sat  timepiece  of  Creation. 


CHAPTER  X. 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS. 

Give  a  boy  address  and  accomplishments,  and  you  give  him  the  mastery 
of  palaces  and  fortunes  wherever  he  goes;  he  has  not  the  trouble  of  earn¬ 
ing  or  owning  them  ;  they  solicit  him  to  enter  and  possess.  —  Emerson. 

With  hat  in  hand,  one  gets  on  in  the  world.  — German  Proverb. 

What  thou  wilt, 

Thou  must  rather  enforce  it  with  thy  smile, 

Than  hew  to  it  with  thy  sword. 

Shakespeare. 

Politeness  has  been  compared  to  an  air  cushion,  which,  although  there 
is  apparently  nothing  in  it,  eases  our  jolts  wonderfull}'.  —  George  L. 
Carey. 

Birth ’s  gude,  but  breedin ’s  better.  —  Scotch  Proverb. 

You  better  return  a  dropped  fan  genteelly  than  give  a  thousand 
pounds  awkwardly;  and  you  had  better  refuse  a  favor  than  grant  it  clum¬ 
sily.  Manner  is  all  in  everything:  it  is  by  manner  only  that  you  can 
please,  and  consequently  rise.  All  your  Greek  will  never  advance  you 
from  secretary  to  envoy,  or  from  envoy  to  ambassador;  but  your  address, 
your  air,  your  manner,  if  good,  may.  — Chesterfield. 

Conduct  is  three  fourths  of  life.  —  Matthew  Arnold. 

I  learnt  that  nothing  can  constitute  good  breeding  that  has  not  good  na¬ 
ture  for  its  foundation.  —  Bulwek. 

The  commonest  man,  who  has  his  ounce  of  sense  and  feeling,  is  con¬ 
scious  of  the  difference  between  a  lovely,  delicate  woman  and  a  coarse  one. 
Even  a  dog  feels  a  difference  in  her  presence.  —  George  Eliot. 

“Why  the  doose  do  ’e  ’old  ’is  ’ead  down  like  that?” 
asked  a  cockney  sergeant-major  angrily,  when  a  worthy 
fellow  soldier  wished  to  he  reinstated  in  a  position  from 
which  he  had  been  dismissed.  “  Has  ’e ’s  been  han  hob 
hcer  ’e  bought  to  know  ’ow  to  be’ave  ’isself  better. 
What  huse  ’ud  ’e  be  has  ha  non-commissioned  hofficer 
hif  ’e  did  n’t  dare  look  ’is  men  hin  the  face  ?  Hif  ha 
man  wants  to  be  ha  soldier,  lii  say,  let  ’im  cock  ’is  chin 
hup,  switch  ’is  stick  habout  ha  bit,  han  give  ha  crack 
hover  the  ’ead  to  hanybody  who  comes  foolin’  round  ’im, 
helse  ’e  might  just  has  well  be  ha  Methodist  parson.” 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  147 


This  English  is  somewhat  rude,  but  it  expresses 
pretty  forcibly  the  fact  that  a  good  bearing  is  indis¬ 
pensable  to  success  as  a  soldier.  Mien  and  manner 
have  much  to  do  with  our  influence  and  reputation  in 
any  walk  of  life. 

“Don’t  you  wish  you  had  my  power?”  asked  the 
East  Wind  of  the  Zephyr.  “Why,  when  I  start  they 
hail  me  by  storm  signals  all  along  the  coast.  I  can 
twist  off  a  ship’s  mast  as  easily  as  you  can  waft  thistle¬ 
down.  With  one  sweep  of  my  wing  I  strew  the  coast 
from  Labrador  to  Cape  Horn  with  shattered  ship-tim¬ 
ber.  I  can  lift  and  have  often  lifted  the  Atlantic.  I 
am  the  terror  of  all  invalids,  and  to  keep  me  from  pierc¬ 
ing  to  the  very  marrow  of  their  bones,  men  cut  down 
forests  for  their  fires  and  explore  the  mines  of  conti¬ 
nents  for  coal  to  feed  their  furnaces.  Under  my  breath 
the  nations  crouch  in  sepulchres.  Don’t  you  wish  you 
had  my  power  ?  ” 

Zephyr  made  no  reply,  but  floated  from  out  the 
bowers  of  the  sky,  and  all  the  rivers  and  lakes  and 
seas,  all  the  forests  and  fields,  all  the  beasts  and  birds 
and  men  smiled  at  its  coming.  Gardens  bloomed,  or¬ 
chards  ripened,  silver  wheat-fields  turned  to  gold,  fleecy 
clouds  went  sailing  in  the  lofty  heaven,  the  pinions  of 
birds  and  the  sails  of  vessels  were  gently  wafted  onward, 
and  health  and  happiness  were  everywhere.  The  foli¬ 
age  and  flowers  and  fruits  and  harvests,  the  warmth 
and  sparkle  and  gladness  and  beauty  and  life  were  the 
only  answer  Zephyr  gave  to  the  insolent  question  of 
the  proud  but  pitiless  East  Wind. 

The  story  goes  that  Queen  Victoria  once  expressed 
herself  to  her  husband  in  rather  a  despotic  tone,  and 
Prince  Albert,  whose  manly  self-respect  was  smarting 
at  her  words,  sought  the  seclusion  of  his  own  apart¬ 
ment,  closing  and  locking  the  door.  In  about  five  min¬ 
utes  some  one  knocked. 

“  Who  is  it  ?  ”  inquired  the  Prince. 


148 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  It  is  I.  Open  to  tlie  Queen  of  England  !  ”  haughtily 
responded  her  Majesty.  There  was  no  reply.  After  a 
long  interval  there  came  a  gentle  tapping  and  the  low 
spoken  words :  “  It  is  I,  Victoria,  your  wife.”  Is  it 
necessary  to  add  that  the  door  was  opened,  or  that  the 
disagreement  was  at  an  end  ?  It  is  said  that  civility 
is  to  a  man  what  beauty  is  to  a  woman :  it  creates  an 
instantaneous  impression  in  his  behalf. 

The  monk  Basle,  according  to  a  quaint  old  legend, 
died  while  under  the  ban  of  excommunication  by  the 
pope,  and  was  sent  in  charge  of  an  angel  to  find  his 
proper  place  in  the  nether  world.  But  his  genial  dis¬ 
position  and  his  great  conversational  powers  won  friends 
wherever  he  went.  The  fallen  angels  adopted  his  man¬ 
ner,  and  even  the  good  angels  went  a  long  way  to  see 
him  and  live  with  him.  He  was  removed  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  Hades,  but  with  the  same  result.  His  inborn 
politeness  and  kindness  of  heart  were  irresistible,  and 
he  seemed  to  change  the  hell  into  a  heaven.  At  length 
the  angel  returned  with  the  monk,  saying  that  no  place 
could  be  found  in  which  to  punish  him.  He  still  re¬ 
mained  the  same  Basle.  So  his  sentence  was  revoked, 
and  he  was  sent  to  Heaven  and  canonized  as  a  saint. 

“Bishop  Eenelon  is  a  delicious  man,”  said  Lord  Peter¬ 
borough  ;  “  I  had  to  run  away  from  him  to  prevent  his 
making  me  a  Christian.” 

The  Duke  of  Marlborough  “wrote  English  badly  and 
spelled  it  worse,”  yet  he  swayed  the  destinies  of  em¬ 
pires.  The  charm  of  his  manner  was  irresistible  and 
influenced  all  Europe.  His  fascinating  smile  and  win¬ 
ning  speech  disarmed  the  fiercest  hatred  and  made 
friends  of  the  bitterest  enemies. 

A  gentleman  took  his  daughter  of  sixteen  to  Rich¬ 
mond,  to  witness  the  trial  of  his  bitter  personal  enemy, 
Aaron  Burr,  whom  he  regarded  as  an  arch-traitor. 
But  she  was  so  fascinated  by  Burr’s  charming  manner 
that  she  sat  with  his  friends.  Her  father  took  her 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  149 

from  the  courtroom,  and  locked  her  up,  but  she  was  sc 
overcome  by  the  fine  manner  of  the  accused  that  she 
believed  in  his  innocence  and  prayed  for  his  acquittal. 
“  To  this  day,”  said  she  fifty  years  afterwards,  “ I  feel 
the  magic  of  his  wonderful  deportment.” 

Madame  Recamier  was  so  charming  that  when  she 
passed  around  the  box  at  the  Church  St.  Roche  in 
Paris,  twenty  thousand  francs  were  put  into  it.  At  the 
great  reception  to  Napoleon  on  his  return  from  Italy, 
the  crowd  caught  sight  of  this  fascinating  woman  and 
almost  forgot  to  look  at  the  great  hero. 

“  Please,  Madame,”  whispered  a  servant  to  Madame 
de  Maintenon  at  dinner,  “  one  anecdote  more,  for  there 
is  no  roast  to-day.”  She  was  so  fascinating  in  manner 
and  speech  that  her  guests  appeared  to  overlook  all  the 
little  discomforts  of  life. 

According  to  St.  Beuve,  the  privileged  circle  at 
Coppet,  after  making  an  excursion,  returned  from 
Chambery  in  two  coaches.  Those  arriving  in  the  first 
coach  had  a  rueful  experience  to  relate  —  a  terrific 
thunder-storm,  shocking  roads,  and  danger  and  gloom 
to  the  whole  company.  The  party  in  the  second  coach 
heard  their  story  with  surprise ;  of  thunder-storm,  of 
steeps,  of  mud,  of  danger,  they  knew  nothing ;  no,  they 
had  forgotten  earth,  and  breathed. a  purer  air;  such  a 
conversation  between  Madame  de  Stael  and  Madame 
Rdcamier  and  Benjamin  Constant  and  Sclilegel !  they 
were  all  in  a  state  of  delight.  The  intoxication  of  the 
conversation  had  made  them  insensible  to  all  notice  of 
weather  or  rough  roads.  “If  I  were  Queen,”  said 
Madame  Tesse,  “  I  should  command  Madame  de  Stael 
to  talk  to  me  every  day.” 

“When  she  had  passed,”  as  Longfellow  wrote  of 
Evangeline,  “it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of  exquisite 
tnusic.” 

Our  homes  are  cheerier  for  her  sake, 

Our  door-yards  brighter  blooming. 

And  all  about  t he  social  air 
Is  sweeter  for  her  coming. 


—  Whittier. 


160 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“A  woman  must  be  truly  refined  to  incite  chivalry 
in  the  heart  of  man,”  said  Madame  Necker. 

“The  art  of  pleasing,”  says  ITazlitt,  “consists  in 
being  pleased.  To  be  amiable  is  to  be  satisfied  with 
one’s  self  and  others.” 

A  guest  for  two  weeks  at  the  house  of  Arthur  M. 
Cavanaugh,  M.  P.,  who  was  without  arms  or  legs,  was 
very  desirous  of  knowing  how  he  fed.  himself ;  but  the 
conversation  and  manner  of  the  host  were  so  charming 
that  the  visitor  forgot  to  satisfy  his  curiosity. 

“  When  Dickens  entered  a  room,”  said  one  who  knew 
him  well,  “  it  was  like  the  sudden  kindling  of  a  big 
fire,  by  which  every  one  was.  warmed.” 

It  is  said  that  when  Goethe  entered  a  restaurant 
people  would  lay  down  their  knives  and  forks  to  ad¬ 
mire  him. 

Philip  of  Macedon,  after  hearing  the  report  of  De¬ 
mosthenes’  famous  oration,  said :  “  Had  I  been  there 
he  would  have  persuaded  me  to  take  up  arms  against 
myself.” 

The  masses  could  not  break  away  from  the  rhythmi¬ 
cal  cadences  of  Wendell  Phillips ;  they  would  listen 
spellbound  for  hours,  even  when  they  hated  him  and 
his  cause.  His  inimitable  manner,  a  kind  of  indefin¬ 
able  mesmerism,  riveted  their  attention,  and  his  bril¬ 
liant,  dazzling  oratory  was  absolutely  irresistible. 

Henry  Clay  was  so  graceful  and  impressive  in  his 
manner  that  a  Pennsylvania  tavern-keeper  tried  to 
induce  him  to  get  out  of  the  stage-coach  in  which  they 
were  riding,  and  make  a  speech  to  himself  and  his  wife. 

“  I  don’t  think  much  of  Choate’s  spread-eagle  talk,” 
said  a  simple-minded  member  of  a  jury  that  had  given 
five  successive  verdicts  to  the  great  advocate;  “but  I 
call  him  a  veiy  lucky  lawyer,  for  there  was  not  one  of 
those  five  cases  that  came  before  us  where  he  was  n’t 
on  the  right  side.”  His  manner  as  well  as  his  logic 
was  irresistible. 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  151 

When  Edward  Everett  took  a  professor’s  chair  at 
Harvard  after  five  years  of  study  in  Europe,  he  was 
almost  worshiped  by  the  students.  His  manner  seemed 
touched  by  that  exquisite  grace  seldom  found  except  in 
women  of  rare  culture.  His  great  popularity  lay  in  a 
magical  atmosphere  which  every  one  felt,  but  no  one 
could  describe,  and  which  never  left  him. 

After  Stephen  A.  Douglas  had  been  abused  in  the 
Senate  he  rose  and  said  :  “  What  no  gentleman  should 
say  no  gentleman  need  answer.” 

A  New  York  lady  had  just  taken  her  seat  in  a  car  on 
a  train  bound  for  Philadelphia,  when  a  somewhat  stout 
man  sitting  just  ahead  of  her  lighted  a  cigar.  She 
coughed  and  moved  uneasily;  but  the  hints  had  no 
effect,  so  she  said  tartly :  “  You  probably  are  a  for¬ 
eigner,  and  do  not  know  that  there  is  a  smoking-car 
attached  to  the  train.  Smoking  is  not  permitted  here.” 
The  man  made  no  reply,  but  threw  his  cigar  from  the 
window.  What  was  her  astonishment  when  the  con¬ 
ductor  told  her,  a  moment  later,  that  she  had  entered 
the  private  car  of  General  Grant.  She  withdrew  in 
confusion,  but  the  same  fine  courtesy  which  led  him  to 
give  up  his  cigar  was  shown  again  as  he  spared  her  the 
mortification  of  even  a  questioning  glance,  still  less  of 
a  look  of  amusement,  although  she  watched  his  dumb, 
immovable  figure  with  apprehension  until  she  reached 
the  door. 

Julian  Ealph,  after  telegraphing  an  account  of  Presi¬ 
dent  Arthur’s  fishing-trip  to  the  Thousand  Islands, 
returned  to  his  hotel  at  two  o’clock  in  the  morning,  to 
find  all  the  doors  locked.  With  two  friends  who  had 
accompanied  him,  he  battered  at  a  side  door  to  wake 
the  servants,  but  what  was  his  chagrin  when  the  door 
was  opened  by  the  President  of  the  United  States  ! 

“  Why,  that ’s  all  right,”  said  Mr.  Arthur  when  Mr. 
Ealph  asked  his  pardon.  “  You  would  n’t  have  got  in 
till  morning  if  I  had  not  come.  No  one  is  up  in  the 


152 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


house  but  me.  I  could  have  sent  my  colored  boy,  but 
he  had  fallen  asleep  and  I  hated  to  wake  him.” 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  the  first  gentleman  in  Europe,  ! 
invited  an  eminent  man  to  dine  with  him.  When 
coffee  was  served,  what  was  the  consternation  of  the 
others  to  find  that  the  guest  drank  from  his  saucer 
An  open  titter  of  amusement  went  round  the  table 
The  Prince  lifted  his  eyes  ;  and,  quickly  noting  the 
cause  of  the  untimely  amusement,  gravely  emptied  his 
cup  into  his  saucer  and  drank  after  the  manner  of  his 
guest.  Silent  and  abashed  the  other  members  of  the 
princely  household  took  the^rebuke  and  did  the  same. 

Queen  Victoria  sent  for  Carlyle,  who  was  a  Scotch 
peasant,  offering  him  the  title  of  nobleman,  which  he 
declined,  feeling  that  he  had  always  been  a  nobleman 
in  his  own  right.  He  understood  so  little  of  the  man-  j 
ners  at  court  that,  when  presented  to  the  Queen,  after 
speaking  to  her  a  few  minutes,  being  tired,  he  said, 

“  Let  us  sit  down,  madam ;  ”  whereat  the  courtiers  were 
ready  to  faint.  But  the  Queen  was  great  enough*  and 
gave  a  gesture  that  seated  all  her  puppets  in  a  moment. 

The  Queen’s  courteous  suspension  of  the  rules  of  eti¬ 
quette,  and  what  it  may  have  cost  her,  can  be  better 
understood  from  what  an  acquaintance  of  Carlyle  said 
of  him  when  he  saw  him  for  the  first  time.  “  His  pres¬ 
ence,  in  some  unaccountable  manner,  rasped  the  nerves. 

I  expected  to  meet  a  rare  being,  and  I  left  him  feeling 
as  if  I  had  drunk  sour  wine,  or  had  had  an  attack  of 
seasickness.” 

Some  persons  wield  a  sceptre  before  which  others 
seem  to  bow  in  glad  obedience.  But  whence  do  they 
obtain  such  magic  power  ?  What  is  the  secret  of  that 
almost  hypnotic  influence  over  people  which  we  would 
give  anything  to  possess  ? 

Courtesy  is  not  always  found  in  high  places.  Even 
royal  courts  furnish  many  examples  of  bad  manners. 
At  an  entertainment  given  by  the  Prince  and  Princess 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  153 


of  Wales,  to  which,  of  course,  only  the  very  cream  of 
the  cream  of  society  was  admitted,  there  was  such  push¬ 
ing  and  struggling  to  see  the  Princess,  who  was  then 
but  lately  married,  that,  as  she  passed  through  the  re¬ 
ception  rooms,  a  bust  of  the  Princess  Eoyal  was  thrown 
from  its  pedestal  and  damaged,  and  the  pedestal  upset ; 
and  the  ladies,  in  their  eagerness  to  see  the  Princess, 
actually  stood  upon  it. 

When  Catherine  of  Eussia  gave  receptions  to  her 
nobles,  she  published  the  following  rules  of  etiquette 
upon  cards  :  “  Gentlemen  will  not  get  drunk  before  the 
feast  is  ended.  Noblemen  are  forbidden  to  strike  their 
wives  in  company.  Ladies  of  the  court  must  not  wash 
out  their  mouths  in  the  drinking-glasses,  or  wipe  their 
faces  on  the  damask,  or  pick  their  teeth  with  forks.” 
But  to-day  the  nobles  of  Eussia  have  no  superiors  in 
manners. 

Etiquette  originally  meant  the  ticket  or  tag  tied  to  a 
bag  to  indicate  its  contents.  If  a  bag  had  this  ticket  it 
was  not  examined.  From  this  the  word  passed  to  cards 
upon  which  were  printed  certain  rules  to  be  observed 
by  guests.  These  rules  were  “  the  ticket  ”  or  the  eti¬ 
quette.  To  be  “the  ticket,”  or,  as  it  was  sometimes 
expressed,  to  act  or  talk  by  the  card,  became  the  thing 
with  the  better  classes. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Napoleon  that  he  married  Jose¬ 
phine  before  he  was  made  commander-in-chief  of  the 
armies  of  Italy.  Her  fascinating  manners  and  her  won¬ 
derful  powers  of  persuasion,  were  more  influential  than 
the  loyalty  of  any  dozen  men  in  France  in  attaching  to 
him  the  adherents  who  would  promote  his  interests. 
Josephine  was  to  the  drawing-room  and  the  salon  what 
Napoleon  was  to  the  field  —  a  preeminent  leader.  The 
secret  of  her  personality  that  made  her  the  Empress  not 
only  of  the  hearts  of  the  Frenchmen,  but  also  of  the 
nations  her  husband  conquered,  has  been  beautifully 
told  by  herself.  “  There  is  only  one  occasion,”  she  said 


'  1 

154  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

to  an  intimate  friend,  “  in  which  I  would  voluntarily 
use  the  words,  ‘  1  will !  ’  —  namely,  when  I  would  say, 

4 1  will  that  all  around  me  be  happy. 9  ” 

“  It  was  only  a  glad  ‘  good-morning,’ 

As  she  passed  along  the  way, 

But  it  spread  the  morning’s  glory 
Over  the  livelong  day.” 

A  fine  manner  more  than  compensates  for  all  the  de* 
fects  of  nature.  The  most  fascinating  person  is  always 
the  one  of  most  winning  manners,  not  the  one  of  great- 
est  physical  beauty.  The  Greeks  thought  beauty  was  a 
proof  of  the  peculiar  favor  of  the  gods,  and  considered 
that  beauty  only  worth  adorning  and  transmitting 
which  was  unmarred  by  outward  manifestations  of  hard 
and  haughty  feeling.  According  to  their  ideal,  beauty 
must  be  the  expression  of  attractive  qualities  within  — 
such  as  cheerfulness,  benignity,  contentment,  charity, 
and  love. 

Mirabeau  was  one  of  the  homeliest  men  in  France.  It 
was  said  he  had  “  the  face  of  a  tiger  pitted  by  small¬ 
pox, but  the  charm  of  his  manner  was  almost  irresis¬ 
tible. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  anything  but  beautiful,  but  she 
possessed  that  indefinable  something  before  which  mere 
conventional  beauty  cowers,  commonplace  and  ashamed. 
Her  hold  upon  the  minds  of  men  was  wonderful.  They 
were  the  creatures  of  her  will,  and  she  shaped  careers 
as  if  she  were  omnipotent.  Even  the  Emperor  Napo¬ 
leon  feared  her  influence  over  his  people  so  much  that 
he  destroyed  her  writings  and  banished  her  from  France.  ' 

Beauty  of  life  and  character,  as  in  art,  has  no  sharp 
angles.  Its  lines  seem  continuous,  so  gently  does  curve 
melt  into  curve.  It  is  sharp  angles  that  keep  many 
souls  from  being  beautiful  that  are  almost  so.  Our 
good  is  less  good,  when  it  is  abrupt,  rude,  ill  timed,  or 
ill  placed.  Many  a  man  and  woman  might  double  theii 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  155 

influence  and  success  by  a  kindly  courtesy  and  a  fine 
manner. 

Tradition  tells  us  that  before  Apelles  painted  his 
wonderful  Goddess  of  Beauty  which  enchanted  all 
Greece,  he  traveled  for  years  observing  fair  women,  that 
he  might  embody  in  his  matchless  Venus  a  combination 
of  the  loveliest  found  in  all.  So  the  good-mannered 
study,  observe,  and  adopt  all  that  is  finest  and  most 
worthy  of  imitation  in  every  cultured  person  they  meet. 

A  single  grain  of  musk  will  scent  a  room  for  years 
without  seeming  to  lose  any  part  of  its  intrinsic  value  : 
so  do  we  ever  radiate  an  influence  of  manner  appreciable 
to  all  about  us  and  powerful  for  good  or  evil,  even 
though  we  may  not  be  conscious  of  its  diffusion.  Yet 
even  the  brute  creation  seems  instinctively  conscious  of 
its  quality,  whether  we  be  coarse  or  refined. 

Throw  a  bone  to  a  dog,  said  a  shrewd  observer,  and  he 
will  run  off  with  it  in  his  mouth,  but  with  no  vibration 
in  his  tail.  Call  the  dog  to  you,  pat  him  on  the  head,  let 
him  take  the  bone  from  your  hand,  and  his  tail  will  wag 
with  gratitude.  The  dog  recognizes  the  good  deed  and 
the  gracious  manner  of  doing  it.  Those  who  throw 
their  good  deeds  should  not  expect  them  to  be  caught 
with  a  thankful  smile. 

“  Ask  a  person  at  Rome  to  show  you  the  road,”  said 
Dr.  Guthrie  of  Edinburgh,  “  and  he  will  always  give 
you  a  civil  and  polite  answer ;  but  ask  any  person  a 
question  for  that  purpose  in  this  country  [Scotland], 
and  he  will  say,  1  Follow  your  nose  and  you  will  find  it.’ 
But  the  blame  is  with  the  upper  classes  ;  and  the  reason 
why,  in  this  country,  the  lower  classes  are  not  polite 
is  because  the  upper  classes  are  not  polite.  I  remember 
how  astonished  I  was  the  first  time  I  was  in  Paris. 
I  spent  the  first  night  with  a  banker,  who  took  me 
to  a  pension,  or,  as  we  call  it,  a  boarding-house. 
When  we  got  there,  a  servant  girl  came  to  the  door,  and 
the  banker  took  off  his  hat,  and  bowed  to  the  servant 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


156 

girl,  and  called  her  mademoiselle,  as  if  she  were  a  lady. 
Now  the  reason  why  the  lower  classes  there  are  so  polite 
is  because  the  upper  classes  are  polite  and  civil  to 
them.” 

A  fine  courtesy  is  a  fortune  in  itself.  The  good- 
mannered  can  do  without  riches,  for  they  have  pass¬ 
ports  everywhere.  All  doors  fly  open  to  them,  and 
they  enter  without  money  and  without  price.  They  can 
enjoy  nearly  everything  without  the  trouble  of  buying 
or  owning.  They  are  as  welcome  in  every  household  as 
the  sunshine  ;  and  why  not  ?  for  they  carry  light,  sun¬ 
shine,  and  joy  everywhere.  They  disarm  jealousy  and 
envy,  for  they  bear  good  will  to  everybody.  Bees  will 
not  sting  a  man  smeared  with  honey. 

“  A  man’s  own  good  breeding,”  says  Chesterfield,  “  is 
the  best  security  against  other  people’s  ill  manners.  It 
carries  along  with  it  a  dignity  that  is  respected  by  the 
most  petulant.  Ill  breeding  invites  and  authorizes  the 
familiarity  of  the  most  timid.  No  man  ever  said  a  pert 
thing  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  or  a  civil  one  to  Sir 
Robert  Walpole.” 

The  true  gentleman  cannot  harbor  those  qualities 
which  excite  the  antagonism  of  others,  as  revenge,  ha¬ 
tred,  malice,  envy,  or  jealousy,  for  these  poison  the 
sources  of  spiritual  life  and  shrivel  the  soul.  Gener¬ 
osity  of  heart  and  a  genial  good  will  towards  all  are 
absolutely  essential  to  him  who  would  possess  fine 
manners.  Here  is  a  man  who  is  cross,  crabbed,  moody, 
sullen,  silent,  sulky,  stingy,  and  mean  with  his  family 
and  servants.  He  refuses  his  wife  a  little  money  to 
buy  a  needed  dress,  and  accuses  her  of  extravagance 
that  would  ruin  a  millionaire.  Suddenly  the  bell  rings. 
Some  neighbors  call :  what  a  change !  The  bear  of 
a  moment  ago  is  as  docile  as  a  lamb.  As  by  magic  he 
becomes  talkative,  polite,  generous.  After  the  callers 
have  gone,  his  little  girl  begs  her  father  to  keep  on  his 
u  company  manners  ”  for  a  little  while,  but  the  sullen 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  157 


mood  comes  back  and  bis  courtesy  vanishes  as  quickly 
as  it  came.  He  is  the  same  disagreeable,  contemptible, 
crabbed  bear  as  before. 

What  friend  of  the  great  Dr.  Johnson  did  not  feel 
mortified  and  pained  to  see  him  eat  like  an  Esquimaux, 
and  to  hear  him  call  men  “  liars  ”  because  they  did  not 
agree  with  him.  He  was  called  the  “  Ursa  Major  ”  or 
Great  Bear.  Benjamin  Bush  said  that  when  Goldsmith 
at  a  banquet  in  London  asked  a  question  about  “the 
American  Indians,”  Dr.  Johnson  exclaimed :  “  There  is 
not  an  Indian  in  North  America  foolish  enough  to  ask 
such  a  question.”  “  Sir,”  replied  Goldsmith,  “  there  is 
not  a  savage  in  America  rude  enough  to  make  such  a 
speech  to  a  gentleman.” 

Emerson  well  said  :  “  Life  is  not  so  short  but  that 
there  is  always  time  enough  for  courtesy.”  But  the 
touchstone  of  our  manners  is  often  found  in  the  way  we 
treat  our  servants  and  the  members  of  our  own  family. 
Rothschild,  Lawrence,  Brooks,  and  many  other  million¬ 
aires  treated  their  servants  as  politely  as  their  customers. 

Aristotle  thus  described  a  real  gentleman  more  than 
two  thousand  years  ago  :  “  The  magnanimous  man  will 
behave  with  moderation  under  both  good  fortune  and 
bad.  He  will  not  allow  himself  to  be  exalted ;  he  will 
not  allow  himself  to  be  abased.  He  will  neither  be 
delighted  with  success,  nor  grieved  with  failure.  He 
will  neither  choose  danger,  nor  seek  it.  He  is  not  given 
to  talk  about  himself  nor  others.  He  does  not  care  that 
himself  should  be  praised,  nor  that  other  people  should 
be  blamed.” 

A  gentleman  is  just  a  gentle  man :  no  more,  no  less  ; 
a  diamond  polished  that  was  first  a  diamond  in  the 
rough.  A  gentleman  is  gentle,  modest,  courteous,  slow 
to  take  offence,  and  never  giving  it.  He  is  slow  to  sur¬ 
mise  evil,  as  he  never  thinks  it.  He  subjects  his  ap¬ 
petites,  refines  his  tastes,  subdues  his  feelings,  controls 
his  speech,  and  deems  every  o*her  as  good  as  himself. 


158 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


A  gentleman,  like  porcelain-ware,  must  be  painted 
before  he  is  glazed.  There  can  be  no  change  after 
it  is  burned  in,  and  all  that  is  put  on  afterwards 
will  wash  off.  He  who  has  lost  all,  but  retains  his  cour¬ 
age,  cheerfulness,  hope,  virtue,  and  self-respect,  is  a  true 
gentleman,  and  is  rich  still. 

When  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  ascended  the  scaffold 
the  jailer  offered  her  his  arm,  which  she  accepted,  say¬ 
ing,  “I  thank  you,  sir;  this  is  the  last  trouble  I  shall 
ever  give  you.” 

“You  replace  Dr.  Franklin,  I  hear,”  said  the  French 
Minister,  Count  de  Vergennes,  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  who 
had  been  sent  to  Paris  to  relieve  our  most  popular  rep¬ 
resentative.  “  I  succeed  him ;  no  man  can  replace  him,” 
was  the  felicitous  reply  of  the  man  who  became  highly 
esteemed  by  the  most  polite  court  in  Europe. 

“You  should  not  have  returned  their  salute,”  said  the 
master  of  ceremonies,  when  Clement  XIV.  bowed  to 
the  ambassadors  who  had  bowed  in  congratulating  him 
upon  his  election.  “Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,”  replied 
Clement.  “  I  have  not  been  pope  long  enough  to  forget 
good  manners.” 

Cowper  says  :  — 

“  A  modest,  sensible,  and  well-bred  man 
Would  not  insult  me,  and  no  other  can.” 

“I  never  listen  to  calumnies,”  said  Montesquieu, 
“because  if  they  are  untrue  I  run  the  risk  of  being 
deceived,  and  if  they  are  true,  of  hating  people  not 
worth  thinking  about.” 

“  I  think,”  says  Emerson,  “  Hans  Andersen’s  story  of 
the  cobweb  cloth  woven  so  line  that  it  was  invisible — • 
woven  for  the  king’s  garment  —  must  mean  manners, 
which  do  really  clothe  a  princely  nature.” 

No  one  can  fully  estimate  how  great  a  factor  in  life  is 
the  possession  of  good  manners,  or  timely  thoughtful 
ness  with  human  sympathy  behind  it.  They  are  the 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  159 


kindly  fruit  of  a  refined  nature,  and  are  the  open  sesame 
to  the  best  of  society.  They  vex  or  soothe,  exalt  or 
debase,  barbarize  or  refine  us  by  a  constant,  steady,  uni¬ 
form,  invincible  operation  like  that  of  the  air  we  breathe. 
Even  power  itself  has  not  half  the  might  of  gentleness, 
that  subtle  oil  which  lubricates  our  relations  with  each 
other,  and  enables  the  machinery  of  society  to  perform 
its  functions  without  friction. 

Thistles,  and  brambles,  and  briars,  and  Rocky  Moun¬ 
tain  sage-grass,  and  mullein  stocks,  and  noxious  weeds, 
grow  without  culture  ;  but  the  great  red  rose  of  the  con¬ 
servatory,  its  leaves  packed  on  leaves  in  graceful  groups 
that  gladden  the  eye,  its  rare  perfume  breathing  deli¬ 
cious  fragrance  upon  the  air,  was  born  of  a  race  of 
cultured  ancestors,  and  has  received  careful  culture 
throughout  its  brief  but  beautiful  life. 

“  Have  you  not  seen  in  the  woods,  in  a  late  autumn 
morning,”  asks  Emerson,  “  a  poo*  fungus,  or  mushroom, 
—  a  plant  without  any  solidity,  nay,  that  seemed  no¬ 
thing  but  a  soft  mush  or  jelly,  — by  its  constant,  total, 
and  inconceivably  gentle  pushing,  manage  to  break  its 
way  up  through  the  frosty  ground,  and  actually  to  lift 
a  hard  crust  on  its  head  ?  It  is  the  symbol  of  the  power 
of  kindness.” 

“  There  is  no  policy  like  politeness,”  says  Magoon; 
u  since  a  good  manner  often  succeeds  where  the  best 
tongue  has  failed .”  The  art  of  pleasing  is  the  art  of 
rising  in  the  world. 

The  politest  people  in  the  world,  it  is  said,  are  the 
Jews.  In  all  ages  they  have  been  maltreated  and  re¬ 
viled,  and  despoiled  of  their  civil  privileges  and  their 
social  rights ;  yet  are  they  everywhere  polite,  affable, 
insinuating,  and  condescending.  They  indulge  in  few 
or  no  recriminations  ;  are  faithful  to  old  associations ; 
more  considerate  of  the  prejudices  of  others  than  others 
are  of  theirs ;  not  more  worldly  minded  and  money- 
loving  than  people  generally  are ;  and,  everything  con- 


160 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


sidered,  they  surpass  all  nations  in  courtesy,  affability, 
and  forbearance. 

It  was  the  Frenchmen  at  Fontenoy  who  politely  bade 
the  English  to  fire  first,  even  when  they  were  face  to 
face  before  the  battle. 

In  concluding  the  terms  of  peace  at  the  close  of  the 
Fran  co-Prussian  War,  Bismarck  conceded  to  the  French 
the  honor  of  firing  the  last  shot.  The  German  army 
discharged  its  final  salute,  and  there  was  a  momentary 
stillness  in  both  armies.  Then  came  the  report  of  a 
single  French  gun,  followed  by  the  stroke  of  twelve  on 
the  clock  tower  at  Versailles,  and  the  desperate  contest 
was  over. 

“  Men,  like  bullets,”  says  Richter,  “  go  farthest  when 
they  are  smoothest.’’ 

Napoleon  was  much  displeased  on  hearing  that  Jose¬ 
phine  had  permitted  General  Lorges,  a  young  and  hand¬ 
some  man,  to  sit  beside  her  on  the  sofa.  Josephine 
explained  that,  instead  of  its  being  General  Lorges,  it 
was  one  of  the  aged  generals  of  his  army,  entirely 
unused  to  the  customs  of  courts.  Josephine  was  un¬ 
willing  to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  honest  old  soldier, 
and  so  allowed  him  to  retain  his  seat.  Napoleon  com¬ 
mended  her  highly  for  her  courtesy. 

President  Jefferson  was  one  day  riding  with  his 
grandson,  when  they  met  a  slave,  who  took  off  his  hat 
and  bowed.  The  President  returned  the  salutation  by 
raising  his  hat,  but  the  grandson  ignored  the  civility  of 
the  negro.  “  Thomas,”  said  the  grandfather,  “  do  you 
permit  a  slave  to  be  more  of  a  gentleman  than  yourself  ?  ” 

“  Lincoln  was  the  first  great  man  I  talked  with  freely 
m  the  United  States,”  said  Fred  Douglass,  “  who  in  no 
single  instance  reminded  me  of  the  difference  between 
himself  and  me,  of  the  difference  in  color.”  . 

“  Eat  at  your  own  table,”  says  Confucius,  “  as  you 
would  eat  at  the  table  of  the  king.”  If  parents  were 
not  careless  about  the  manners  of  their  children  at 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  161 

home,  they  would  seldom  be  shocked  at  their  behavior 
abroad. 

When  Washington  visited  Milford,  N.  H.,  in  1790,  he 
was  walking  about  the  town  with  several  officers,  when 
he  was  saluted  by  a  colored  soldier  who  had  fought 
under  him  and  lost  a  limb  in  the  service.  Washington 
shook  hands  with  the  soldier  and  gave  him  a  silver  dol¬ 
lar.  An  attendant  objected  to  the  President  of  the 
United  States  showing  civilities  to  so  humble  a  person, 
but  Washington  rebuked  him  and  asked  if  he  should 
permit  this  colored  man  to  excel  him  in  politeness. 

Andrew  Jackson  was  as  courteous,  respectful,  and 
kind  to  his  slaves  as  to  his  white  neighbors.  He  was  a 
man  without  fear  and  without  secrets.  He  never  locked 
a  door  or  concealed  a  paper. 

James  Russell  Lowell  was  as  courteous  to  a  beggar 
as  to  a  lord,  and  was  once  observed  holding  a  long  con¬ 
versation  in  Italian  with  an  organ-grinder  whom  he  was 
questioning  about  scenes  in  Italy  that  they  were  each 
familiar  with. 

In  hastily  turning  the  corner  of  a  crooked  street  in 
London,  a  young  lady  ran  with  great  force  against  a 
ragged  beggar-boy  and  almost  knocked  him  down.  Stop¬ 
ping  as  soon  as  she  could,  she  turned  around  and  said 
very  kindly :  “  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  little  fellow  ;  I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  ran  against  you.”  The  astonished  boy 
looked  at  her  a  moment,  and  then,  taking  off  about  three 
quarters  of  a  cap,  made  a  low  bow  and  said,  while  a 
broad,  pleasant  smile  overspread  his  face:  “You  have 
my  parding,  miss,  and  welcome,  —  and  welcome ;  and 
the  next  time  you  run  ag’in’  me,  you  can  knock  me  clean 
down  and  I  won’t  say  a  word.”  After  the  lady  had 
passed  on,  he  said  to  a  companion :  “  I  say,  Jim,  it ’s  the 
first  time  I  ever  had  anybody  ask  my  parding,  and  it 
kind  o’  took  me  off  my  feet.” 

‘  Respect  the  burden,  madam e,  respect  the  burden,” 
said  Napoleon,  as  he  courteously  stepped  aside  at  St, 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


162 

Helena  to  make  way  for  a  laborer  bending  under  a 
heavy  load,  while  his  companion  seemed  inclined  to 
keep  the  narrow  path. 

A  Washington  politician  went  to  visit  Daniel  Web¬ 
ster  at  Marshfield,  Mass.,  and,  in  taking  a  short  cut  to 
the  house,  came  to  a  stream  which  he  could  not  cross. 
Calling  to  a  rough-looking  farmer  near  by,  he  offered  a 
quarter  to  be  carried  to  the  other  side.  The  farmer 
took  the  politician  on  his  broad  shoulders  and  landed 
him  safely,  but  would  not  take  the  quarter.  The  old 
rustic  presented  himself  at  the  house  a  few  minutes 
later,  and  was  introduced  as  Mr.  Webster,  to  the  great 
surprise  and  chagrin  of  the  visitor. 

President  Quincy  was  once  riding  to  Cambridge  in  a 
crowded  omnibus,  when  a  colored  woman  entered.  The 
president  of  Harvard  University  rose  and  gave  her  his 
seat,  although  at  that  time  negroes  were  considered 
“  only  property.’’  The  author  heard  Fred  Douglass  say 
that  he  was  ejected  from  a  street  car  in  Boston  on  ac¬ 
count  of  his  color. 

Garrison  was  as  polite  to  the  furious  mob  that  tore 
his  clothes  from  his  back  and  dragged  him  through  the 
streets  as  he  could  have  been  to  a  king.  He  was  one 
of  the  serenest  souls  that  ever  lived.  Christ  was  cour¬ 
teous,  even  to  his  persecutors,  and  in  terrible  agony  on 
the  cross  he  cried  :  “  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do.”  The  speech  of  Paul  before 
Agrippa  is  a  model  of  dignified  courtesy,  as  well  as  of 
persuasive  eloquence.  The  finest  type  of  the  coming 
man  will  be  a  Christian  gentleman. 

Good  manners  often  prove  a  fortune  to  a  young  man. 
Mr.  Butler,  a  merchant  in  Providence,  R.  I.,  had  once 
closed  his  store  and  was  on  his  way  home  when  he  met 
a  little  girl  who  wanted  a  spool  of  thread.  He  went 
back,  opened  the  store,  and  got  the  thread.  This  little 
incident  was  talked  of  all  about  the  city  and  brought 
him  hundreds  of  customers.  He  became  very  wealthy, 
larsrelv  because  of  his  courtesv. 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  163 

Ross  Winans  of  Baltimore  owed  his  great  success  ancl 
fortune  largely  to  his  courtesy  to  two  foreign  strangers. 
Although  his  was  but  a  fourth-rate  factory,  his  great 
politeness  in  explaining  the  minutest  details  to  his 
visitors  was  in  such  marked  contrast  with  the  limited 
attention  they  had  received  in  large  establishments  that 
it  won  their  esteem.  The  strangers  were  Russians  sent 
by  their  Czar,  who  soon  invited  Mr.Winans  to  establish 
locomotive  works  in  Russia.  He  did  so,  and  soon  his 
profits  resulting  from  his  politeness  were  more  than 
$100,000  a  year.  Courtesy  pays. 

A  poor  curate  saw  a  crowd  of  rough  boys  and  men 
laughing  and  making  fun  of  two  aged  spinsters  dressed 
in  antiquated  costume.  The  ladies  were  embarrassed 
and  did  not  dare  enter  the  church.  The  curate  pushed 
through  the  crowd,  conducted  them  up  the  central  aisle, 
and  gave  them  choice  seats,  amid  the  titter  of  the  con¬ 
gregation.  These  old  ladies  at  their  death  left  the 
gentle  curate  a  large  fortune,  although  strangers  to 
him.  Hot  long  since  a  lady  met  the  late  President 
Humphrey  of  Amherst  College,  and  she  was  so  much 
pleased  with  his  great  politeness  that  she  gave  a  gener¬ 
ous  donation  to  the  college. 

“  Why  did  our  friend  never  succeed  in  business  ?  ” 
asked  a  man  returning  to  Hew  York  after  years  of 
absence ;  “  he  had  sufficient  capital,  a  thorough  know¬ 
ledge  of  his  business,  and  exceptional  shrewdness  and 
sagacity.”  “  He  was  sour  and  morose,”  was  the  reply ; 
“he  always  suspected  his  employees  of  cheating  him, 
and  was  discourteous  to  his  customers.  Hence,  no  man 
ever  put  good  will  or  energy  into  work  done  for  him, 
and  his  patrons  went  to  shops  where  they  were  sure  of 
civility  !  ” 

Some  men  almost  work  their  hands  off,  and  deny 
themselves  many  of  the  common  comforts  of  life  in  their 
earnest  efforts  to  succeed,  and  yet  render  success  im¬ 
possible  by  their  cross-grained  ungentlemanliness.  They 


164 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


repel  patronage,  and  business  goes  to  others  who  are 
really  less  deserving  but  more  companionable. 

Bad  manners  often  neutralize  even  honesty,  industry, 
and  the  greatest  energy ;  while  agreeable  manners  win 
in  spite  of  other  defects.  Take  two  men,  possessing 
equal  advantages  in  every  other  respect :  but  let  one  be 
gentlemanly,  kind,  obliging,  and  conciliating,  the  other 
disobliging,  rude,  harsh,  and  insolent,  and  the  one  will 
become  rich  while  the  other  will  starve. 

A  fine  illustration  of  the  business  value  of  good  man¬ 
ners  is  found  in  the  Bon  Marche,  an  enormous  estab¬ 
lishment  in  Paris  where  thousands  of  clerks  are  ern-  ! 
ployed,  and  where  almost  everything  is  kept  for  sale. 
The  two  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  house  are 
one  low  price  to  all,  and  extreme  courtesy.  Mere 
politeness  is  not  enough ;  the  employees  must  try  in 
every  possible  way  to  please  and  to  make  customers  feel 
at  home.  Something  more  must  be  done  than  is  done 
in  other  stores,  so  that  every  visitor  will  remember  the 
Bon  Marche  Avith  pleasure.  By  this  course  the  business 
has  been  developed  until  it  is  said  to  be  the  largest  of 
the  kind  in  the  world.  No  other  advertising  is  so  ef¬ 
ficacious.  A.  T.  Stewart  imitated  this  store  in  his 
great  retail  house  in  NeAV  York. 

“  Thank  you,  my  dear  ;  please  call  again,”  spoken  to 
a  little  beggar-girl,  who  bought  a  pennyworth  of  snuff, 
proved  a  profitable  advertisement  and  made  Lundy  1 
Foote  a  millionaire. 

Many  persons  of  real  refinement  are  thought  to  be 
stiff,  proud,  reserved,  and  haughty  who  are  not,  but  who 
are  merely  diffident  and  shy. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  diffidence  often  betrays  us 
into  discourtesies  which  our  hearts  abhor,  and  which 
cause  us  intense  mortification  and  embarrassment.  Ex< 
cessive  shyness  must  be  overcome  as  an  obstacle  to  per. 
feet  manners.  It  is  peculiar  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  and 
the  Teutonic  races,  and  has  frequently  been  a  barrier  to 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  165 

fch.e  highest  culture.  It  is  a  disease  of  the  finest  organ¬ 
izations  and  the  highest  types  of  humanity.  It  never 
attacks  the  coarse  and  vulgar.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was 
the  shyest  man  of  his  age.  lie  did  not  acknowledge 
his  great  discovery  for  years  for  fear  of  attracting 
attention  to  himself.  He  would  not  allow  his  name  to 
be  used  in  connection  with  his  theory  of  the  moon’s 
motion,  for  fear  it  would  increase  the  acquaintances  he 
would  have  to  meet.  George  Washington  was  awkward 
and  shy  and  had  the  air  of  a  countryman.  Archbishop 
YVhately  was  so  shy  that  he  would  escape  notice  when¬ 
ever  it  was  possible.  At  last  he  determined  to  give  up 
trying  to  cure  his  shyness ;  “  for  why,”  he  asked, 
“  should  I  endure  this  torture  all  my  life  ?  ”  when,  to 
his  surprise,  it  almost  entirely  disappeared.  Elihu 
Burritt  was  so  shy  that  he  would  hide  in  the  cellar 
when  his  parents  had  company. 

Practice  on  the  stage  or  lecture  platform  does  not 
always  eradicate  shyness.  David  Garrick,  the  great 
actor,  was  once  summoned  to  testify  in  court ;  and, 
though  he  had  acted  for  thirty  years  with  marked  self- 
possession,  he  was  so  confused  and  embarrassed  that  the 
judge  dismissed  him.  John  B.  Gough  said  that  he 
could  not  rid  himself  of  his  early  diffidence  and  shrink¬ 
ing  from  public  notice.  He  said  that  he  never  went  on 
the  platform  without  fear  and  trembling,  and  would 
often  be  covered  with  cold  perspiration. 

There  are  many  worthy  people  who  are  brave  on  the 
street,  who  would  walk  up  to  a  cannon’s  mouth  in  battle, 
but  who  are  cowards  in  the  drawing-room,  and  dare  not 
express  an  opinion  in  the  social  circle. 

They  feel  conscious  of  a  subtle  tyranny  in  society’s 
tode,  which  locks  their  lips  and  ties  their  tongues.  Ad¬ 
dison  was  one  of  the  purest  writers  of  English  and  a 
perfect  master  of  the  pen,  but  he  could  scarcely  utter  a 
dozen  words  in  conversation  without  embarrassment. 
Shakespeare  was  very  shy.  He  retired  from  London  at 


166 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


forty,  and  did  not  try  to  publish  or  preserve  one  of  hia 
plays.  He  took  second  or  third  rate  parts  on  account 
of  his  diffidence.  Byron  would  sometimes  jump  out  of 
a  window  when  he  saw  visitors  coming,  to  avoid  meet¬ 
ing  them.  Hawthorne  wrote  in  his  note-book :  “  When 
in  England  I  was  called  upon  at  a  public  dinner  to  make 
a  speech.  I  rapped  on  my  head  and  it  returned  only  a 
hollow  sound.” .  He  was  tortured  through  life  by  his 
shyness,  and  would  often  take  a  boat  on  the  Concord 
River  to  escape  visitors.  He  would  sometimes  turn  his 
back  to  avoid  recognition.  “  God  may  forgive  sins,” 
said  he,  “  but  awkwardness  has  no  forgiveness  in 
heaven  or  earth  !  ” 

Generally  shyness  comes  from  a  person  thinking  too 
much  about  himself  —  which  in  itself  is  a  breach  of 
good  breeding  —  and  wondering  what  other  people  think 
about  him. 

“  I  was  once  very  shy,”  said  Sydney  Smith,  “  but  it 
was  not  long  before  I  made  two  very  useful  discoveries : 
first,  that  all  mankind  were  not  solely  employed  in  ob¬ 
serving  me ;  and  next,  that  shamming  was  of  no  use ; 
that  the  world  was  very  clear-sighted,  and  soon  esti¬ 
mated  a  man  at  his  true  value.  This  cured  me.” 

What  a  misfortune  it  is  to  go  through  life  apparently 
encased  in  ice,  yet  all  the  while  full  of  kindly,  cordial 
feeling  for  one’s  fellow  men  ?  It  is  a  disease ;  for  it  is 
caused  by  fear,  and  fear  is  a  disease.  Shy  people  are 
always  distrustful  of  their  powers  and  look  upon  their 
lack  of  confidence  as  a  weakness  or  lack  of  ability, 
when  it  may  indicate  quite  the  reverse.  By  teaching 
children  early  the  arts  of  social  life,  such  as  boxing, 
horseback  riding,  dancing,  elocution,  and  similar  accom¬ 
plishments,  we  may  do  much  to  overcome  the  sense  of 
shyness.  Shy  people  should  dress  well.  Good  clothes 
give  ease  of  manner,  and  uulock  the  tongue.  The  con¬ 
sciousness  of  being  well  dressed  gives  a  grace  and  ease 
el  manner  that  even  religion  will  not  bestow,  while  in* 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS.  167 


feriority  of  garb  often  induces  restraint.  As  peculiari¬ 
ties  in  apparel  are  sure  to  attract  attention,  it  is  well  to 
avoid  bright  colors  and  fashionable  extremes,  and  wear 
plain,  well-fitted  garments  of  as  good  material  as  the 
purse  will  afford. 

Beauty  in  dress  is  a  good  thing,  rail  at  it  who  may. 
But  it  is  a  lower  beauty,  for  which  a  higher  beauty 
should  not  be  sacrificed.  They  love  dress  too  much 
who  give  it  their  first  thought,  their  best  time,  or  all 
their  money  ;  who  for  it  neglect  the  culture  of  the  mind 
or  heart,  or  the  claims  of  others  on  their  service  j  who 
care  more  for  dress  than  for  their  character  ;  who  are 
troubled  more  by  an  unfashionable  garment  than  by  a 
neglected  duty. 

When  Ezekiel  Whitman,  a  prominent  lawyer  and 
graduate  of  Harvard,  was  elected  to  the  Massachusetts 
legislature,  he  came  to  Boston  from  his  farm  in  country¬ 
man’s  dress,  and  went  to  an  hotel  in  Boston.  He  went 
into  the  parlor  and  sat  down,  when  he  overheard  a 
remark  between  some  ladies  and  gentlemen.  “Ah, 
here  comes  a  real  homespun  countryman.  Here ’s  fun.” 
They  asked  him  all  sorts  of  queer  questions,  tending  to 
throw  ridicule  upon  him,  when  he  arose  and  said, 
“  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  permit  me  to  wish  you  health 
and  happiness,  and  may  you  grow  better  and  wiser  in 
advancing  years,  bearing  in  mind  that  outward  appear¬ 
ances  are  deceitful.  You  mistook  me,  from  my  dress, 
for  a  country  booby ;  while  I,  from  the  same  superficial 
cause,  thought  you  were  ladies  and  gentlemen.  The 
mistake  has  been  mutual.”  Just  then  Governor  Caleb 
Strong  entered  and  called  to  Mr.  Whitman,  who,  turn¬ 
ing  to  the  dumfounded  company,  said :  “  I  wish  you 

a  very  good  evening.”  Dress,  like  wealth,  is  a  power, 
but  we  must  not  be  its  slave. 

“  An  emperor  in  his  nightcap,”  says  Goldsmith, 
“  would  not  meet  with  half  the  respect  of  an  emperor 
with  a  crown.” 


i 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


168 


“In  civilized  society/5  says  Johnson,  “external  ad 
vantages  make  us  more  respected.  A  man  with  a  good 
coat  upon  his  back  meets  with  a  better  reception  than 
he  who  has  a  bad  one.55 

One  cannot  but  feel  that  God  is  a  lover  of  dress.  He 
has  put  robes  of  beauty  and  glory  upon  all  his  works. 
Every  flower  is  dressed  in  richness  ;  every  field  blushes 
beneath  a  mantle  of  beauty ;  every  star  is  veiled  in 
brightness ;  every  bird  is  clothed  in  the  habiliments  of 
the  most  exquisite  taste. 

Yet  some  fanatics  will  tell  you  that  beauty  is  a  sin, 
and  that  the  loveliness  and  gorgeousness  of  nature  are 
a  consequence  of  the  fall  of  man  in  Eden. 

Some  people  look  upon  polished  manners  as  a  kind  of 
affectation.  They  claim  admiration  for  plain,  solid, 
square,  rugged  characters.  As  well  say  that  they  like 
square,  plain,  unornamented  houses  made  from  square 
blocks  of  stone.  St.  Peter’s  is  none  the  less  strong  and 
solid  because  of  its  elegant  columns  and  the  magnificent 
sweep  of  its  arches,  its  carved  and  fretted  marbles  of 
matchless  hues.  Why  do  not  such  people  wear  their 
diamonds  in  the  rough  ?  Why  not  take  them  as  made 
by  nature  ?  They  have  the  same  intrinsic  value,  but 
we  know  that  all  men  want  their  diamonds  polished. 

Our  manners  like  our  characters  are  always  under  in¬ 
spection.  Every  time  we  go  into  society  we  must  step 
on  the  scales  of  each  person’s  opinion,  and  the  loss  or 
gain  from  our  last  weight  is  carefully  noted.  Each 
asks,  “  Is  this  person  going  up  or  down  ?  Through 
how  many  grades  has  he  passed  ? 55  For  example, 
young  Brown  enters  a  drawing-room.  All  present 
weigh  him  in  their  judgment  and  silently  say,  “  This 
young  man  is  gaining ;  he  is  more  careful,  thoughtful, 
polite,  considerate,  straightforward,  truthful,  industri¬ 
ous.55  Beside  him  stands  young  Jones.  It  is  evident 
that  he  is  losing  ground  rapidly.  He  is  careless,  in¬ 
different,  rough,  profane,  obscene,  does  not  look  you  in 


•»  M- 


A  FORTUNE  IN  GOOD  MANNERS. 


169 


the  eye,  is  mean,  small,  stingy,  snaps  at  the  servants, 
yet  is  over-polite  to  strangers.  And  so  we  go  through 
life,  tagged  with  these  invisible  labels  by  all  who  know 
us.  I  sometimes  think  it  would  be  a  great  advantage 
if  one  could  read  these  ratings  of  his  associates.  We 
cannot  long  deceive  the  world,  for  that  other  self,  who 
ever  stands  in  the  shadow  of  ourselves  holding  the 
scales  of  justice,  that  telltale  in  the  soul,  rushes  to  the 
eye  or  into  the  manner  and  betrays  us. 

But  manners,  while  they  are  the  garb  of  the  gentle¬ 
man,  do  not  constitute  or  finally  determine  his  char¬ 
acter.  Mere  politeness  can  never  be  a  substitute  for 
moral  excellence,  any  more  than  the  bark  can  take  the 
place  of  the  heart  of  the  oak.  It  may  well  indicate  the 
kind  of  wood  below,  but  not  always  whether  it  be  sound 
or  decayed.  Etiquette  is  but  a  substitute  for  good  man¬ 
ners  and  is  often  but  their  mere  counterfeit. 

Sincerity  is  the  highest  quality  of  good  manners. 

The  following  recipe  is  recommended  to  those  who 
wish  to  acquire  genuine  good  manners  :  — 

Of  Unselfishness,  three  drachms  ; 

Of  the  tincture  of  Good  Cheer,  one  ounce ; 

Of  Essence  of  Heart’s-Ease,  three  drachms  ; 

Of  the  Extract  of  the  Bose  of  Sharon,  four  ounces ; 

Of  the  Oil  of  Charity,  three  drachms,  and  no  scruples  ; 

Of  the  Infusion  of  Common  Sense  and  Tact,  one 
ounce ; 

Of  the  Spirit  of  Love,  two  ounces. 

The  Mixture  to  be  taken  whenever  there  is  the  slight¬ 
est  symptom  of  selfishness,  exclusiveness,  meanness,  or 
I-am-better-than-you-ness. 

Pattern  after  Him  who  gave  the  Golden  Rule,  and 
who  was  the  first  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM. 

The  labor  we  delight  in  physics  pain.  —  Shakespeare. 

The  only  conclusive  evidence  of  a  man’s  sincerity  is  that  he  gives  him¬ 
self  for  a  principle.  Words,  money,  all  things  else  are  comparatively  easy 
to  give  away;  but  when  a  man  makes  a  gift  of  his  daily  life  and  practice, 
it  is  plain  that  the  truth,  whatever  it  may  be,  has  taken  possession  of  him. 
—  Lowell. 

Let  us  beware  of  losing  our  enthusiasm.  Let  us  ever  glory  in  something, 
and  strive  to  retain  our  admiration  for  all  that  would  ennoble,  and  our 
interest  in  all  that  would  enrich  and  beautify  our  life. 

Phillips  Brooks. 

“  It  can  so  inform 

The  mind  that  is  within  them,  so  impress 
With  quietness  aiu^  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues, 

Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  sellish  men, 

Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life, 

Can  e’er  prevail  against  them,  or  destroy 
Their  cheerful  faith  that  all  which  they  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings.” 

A  region  of  spiritual  ideas  and  spiritual  persons  where  youth  is  perpet¬ 
ual,  where  ecstasy  is  no  transient  mood,  but  a  permanent  condition,  and 
where  dwell  the  awful  forces  which  radiate  immortal  life  into  the  will.  — 
E.  P.  Whipple. 

What  a  power  there  is  in  an  enthusiastic  adherence 
to  an  ideal !  What  are  hardships,  contumely,  slander, 
ridicule,  persecution,  toil,  sickness,  the  feebleness  of 
age,  to  a  soul  throbbing  with  an  overmastering  purpose  ? 

In  the  Galerie  des  Beaux  Arts  in  Paris  is  a  beautiful 
statue  conceived  by  a  sculptor  who  was  so  poor  that  he 
lived  and  worked  in  a  small  garret.  When  his  clay 
model  was  nearly  done,  a  heavy  frost  fell  upon  the  city. 
He  knew  that  if  the  water  in  the  interstices  of  the  clay 
.should  freeze,  the  beautiful  lines  would  be  distorted.  So 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  171 


he  wrapped  his  bedclothes  around  the  clay  image.  In 
the  morning  he  was  found  dead,  but  his  idea  was  saved, 
and  other  hands  gave  it  enduring  form  in  marble. 

“  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  others  when  speaking 
on  an  important  question,”  said  Henry  Clay ;  “  but  on 
such  occasions  I  seem  to  be  unconscious  of  the  external 
world.  Wholly  engrossed  by  the  subject  before  me,  I 
lose  all  sense  of  personal  identity,  of  time,  or  of  sur 
rounding  objects.” 

“  A  bank  never  becomes  very  successful,”  says  a  noted 
financier,  “  until  it  gets  a  president  who  takes  it  to  bed 
with  him.”  “  Men  are  nothing,”  exclaimed  Montaigne, 
“  until  they  are  excited.”  Like  the  new  and  added 
power  of  the  young  lover  to  paint  in  hues  of  paradise 
the  ugliest  object,  enthusiasm  gives  the  otherwise  dry 
and  uninteresting  subject  or  occupation  a  new  meaning. 
As  the  young  lover  has  finer  sense  and  more  acute  vision 
and  sees  in  the  object  of  his  affections  a  hundred  vir¬ 
tues  and  charms  invisible  to  all  other  eyes,  so  a  man 
permeated  with  enthusiasm  has  his  power  of  perception 
heightened  and  his  vision  magnified  until  he  sees  beauty 
and  charms  others  cannot  discern  which  compensate  for 
drudgery,  privations,  hardships,  and  even  persecution. 
Dickens  says  he  was  haunted,  possessed,  spirit-driven  by 
the  plots  and  characters  in  his  stories  which  would  not 
let  him  sleep  or  rest  until  he  had  committed  them  to 
paper.  On  one  sketch  he  shut  himself  up  for  a  month, 
and  when  he  came  out  he  looked  haggard  as  a  murderer. 
His  characters  haunted  him  day  and  night. 

John  Jacob  Astor  would  hang  a  fine  fur  in  his  count¬ 
ing-room  as  other  men  hang  pictures ;  he  would  stroke 
it  with  enthusiasm,  extol  its  beauty,  and  add  that  it  was 
worth  five  hundred  dollars  in  Canton. 

“  Herr  Capellmeister,  I  should  like  to  compose  some¬ 
thing ;  how  shall  I  begin?”  asked  a  youth  of  twelve, 
wno  had  played  with  great  skill  on  the  piano.  “  Poon, 
pooh,”  replied  Mozart,  “you  must  wait.”  “ But  you  be- 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


112 

gan  when  you  were  younger  than  I  am,”  said  the  boy. 
“  Yes,  so  I  did,”  said  the  great  composer,  “  but  I  never 
asked  anything  about  it.  When  one  has  the  spirit  of 
a  composer,  he  writes  because  he  can’t  help  it.” 

■Gladstone  says  that  what  is  really  wanted  is  to  light 
up  the  spirit  that  is  within  a  boy.  In  some  sense 
and  in  some  degree,  in  some  effectual  degree,  there  is  in 
every  boy  the  material  of  good  work  in  the  world ;  in 
every  boy,  not  only  in  those  who  are  brilliant,  not  only 
in  those  who  are  quick,  but  in  those  who  are  stolid,  and 
even  in  those  who  are  dull,  or  who  seem  to  be  dull.  If 
they  have  only  the  good  will,  the  dullness  will  day  by 
day  clear  away,  under  the  influence  of  the  good  will. 

Gerster,  an  unknown  Hungarian,  made  fame  and  for¬ 
tune  sure  the  first  night  she  appeared  in  opera.  Her 
enthusiasm  almost  hypnotized  her  auditors.  In  less 
than  a  week  she  had  become  popular  and  independent. 
Her  soul  was  smitten  with  a  passion  for  growth,  and 
all  the  powers  of  heart  and  mind  were  devoted  to  self- 
improvement. 

The  artist  who  played  Meg  Merrilies  in  “  Guy  Man- 
nering”  in  the  usual  formal  way  was  ill,  and  the  “  util¬ 
ity  ”  woman,  Charlotte  Cushman,  was  asked  to  take  the 
part.  The  chance  for  a  hit  flashed  through  her  mind ; 
she  rushed  upon  the  stage,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of 
audience  and  actors  alike,  assumed  the  role  since  so 
famous. 

“  I  have  been  so  busy  for  twenty  years  trying  to  save 
the  souls  of  other  people,”  said  Livingstone,  “  that  I 
had  forgotten  that  I  have  one  of  my  own  until  a  sav¬ 
age  auditor  asked  me  if  I  felt  the  influence  of  the 
religion  I  was  advocating.” 

All  great  works  of  art  have  been  produced  when  the 
artist  was  intoxicated  with  the  passion  for  beauty  and 
form  which  would  not  let  him  rest  until  his  thought 
was  expressed  in  marble  or  on  canvas. 

“Well,  I’ve  worked  hard  enough  for  it,”  said  Mali- 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  ITS 


bran  when  a  critic  expressed  his  admiration  of  her  D  in 
alt,  reached  by  running  up  three  octaves  from  low  D ; 
“  I  ’ve  been  chasing  it  for  a  month.  I  pursued  it  every¬ 
where, —  when  I  was  dressing,  when  I  was  doing  my 
hair ;  and  at  last  I  found  it  on  the  toe  of  a  shoe  that  I 
was  putting  on.” 

“Capital  composition,”  said  Joshua  Reynolds,  exam¬ 
ining  a  picture  he  wished  to  praise  ;  “  correct  drawing, 
color,  tone,  lights,  and  shadows  excellent ;  but  it  wants 
—  that !  ”  added  the  great  artist,  snapping  his  fingers. 

“Why,”  says  Bulwer,  “nothing  is  so  contagious  as 
enthusiasm.  It  is  the  real  allegory  of  the  fable  of  Or¬ 
pheus  ;  it  moves  stones  and  charms  brutes.  It  is  the 
genius  of  sincerity,  and  truth  accomplishes  no  victories 
without  it.” 

“  Every  great  and  commanding  moment  in  the  annals 
of  the  world,”  says  Emerson,  “is  the  triumph  of  some 
enthusiasm.  The  victories  of  the  Arabs  after  Mahomet, 
who,  in  a  few  years,  from  a  small  and  mean  beginning, 
established  a  larger  empire  than  that  of  Rome,  is  an  ex¬ 
ample.  They  did  they  knew  not  what.  The  naked  De- 
rar,  horsed  on  an  idea,  was  found  an  overmatch  for  a 
troop  of  cavalry.  The  women  fought  like  men  and  con¬ 
quered  the  Roman  men.  They  were  miserably  equipped, 
miserably  fed.  They  were  temperance  troops.  There  was 
neither  brandy  nor  flesh  needed  to  feed  them.  They 
conquered  Asia  and  Africa  and  Spain  on  barley.  The 
Caliph  Omar’s  walking-stick  struck  more  terror  into 
those  who  saw  it  than  another  man’s  sword.” 

It  was  enthusiasm  that  enabled  Napoleon  to  make  a 
campaign  in  two  weeks  that  would  have  taken  another 
a  year  to  accomplish.  “  These  Frenchmen  are  not  men, 
they  fly,”  said  the  Austrians  in  consternation.  In  fif¬ 
teen  days  Napoleon,  in  his  first  Italian  campaign,  had 
gained  six  victories,  taken  twenty-one  standards,  fifty- 
five  pieces  of  cannon,  had  captured  fifteen  thousand 
prisoners,  and  had  conquered  Piedmont.  After  this 


174 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


avalanche  a  discomfited  Austrian  general  said :  “  This 
young  commander  knows  nothing  whatever  about  the 
art  of  war.  He  is  a  perfect  ignoramus.  There  is  no 
doing  anything  with  him.”  But  his  soldiers  followed 
their  “  Little  Corporal  ”  with  an  enthusiasm  which  knew 
no  defeat  or  disaster. 

“  There  are  important  cases,”  says  A.  H.  K.  Boyd,  "  in 
which  the  difference  between  half  a  heart  and  a  whole 
heart  makes  just  the  difference  between  signal  defeat 
and  a  splendid  victory.” 

“  Should  I  die  this  minute,”  said  Nelson  at  an  impor¬ 
tant  crisis,  “  want  of  frigates  would  be  found  written  on 
my  heart.” 

The  simple,  innocent  Maid  of  Orleans  with  her  sacred 
sword,  her  consecrated  banner,  and  her  belief  in  her 
great  mission,  sent  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm  through  the 
whole  French  army  such  as  neither  king  nor  statesmen 
could  produce.  Her  zeal  carried  everything  before  it. 
Oh !  what  a  great  work  each  one  could  perform  in  this 
world  if  he  only  knew  his  power !  But,  like  a  bitted 
horse,  man  does  not  realize  his  strength  until  he  has 
once  run  away  with  himself. 

Disraeli  considered  enthusiasm  an  incomparable  fac¬ 
ulty,  a  divine  gift,  which  enables  a  statesman  to  com¬ 
mand  the  world. 

“Underneath  is  laid  the  builder  of  this  church  and 
city,  Christopher  Wren,  who  lived  more  than  ninety 
years,  not  for  himself,  but  for  the  public  good.  Deader, 
if  you  seek  his  monument,  look  around  !  ”  Turn  where 
you  will  in  London,  you  find  noble  monuments  of  the 
genius  of ^a  man  who  never  received  instruction  from  an 
architect.  He  built  fifty-five  churches  in  the  city  and 
thirty-six  halls.  “  I  would  give  my  skin  for  the  archi¬ 
tect’s  design  of  the  Louvre,”  said  he,  when  in  Paris  to  get 
ideas  for  the  restoration  of  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral  in  Lon¬ 
don.  His  rare  skill  is  shown  in  the  palaces  of  Hamp¬ 
ton  Court  and  Kensington,  in  Temple  Bar,  Drury  Lane 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  175 


Theatre,  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  the  great  Monu¬ 
ment.  He  changed  Greenwich  palace  into  a  sailor’s  re¬ 
treat,  and  built  churches  and  colleges  at  Oxford.  He 
also  planned  for  the  rebuilding  of  London,  after  the 
Great  Fire,  but  those  in  authority  would  not  adopt  his 
splendid  plan.  He  worked  thirty-five  years  upon  his 
masterpiece,  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral.  Although  he  lived 
so  long,  and  was  so  healthy  in  later  life,  he  was  so  deli¬ 
cate  as  a  child  that  he  was  a  constant  source  of  anx¬ 
iety  to  his  parents.  His  great  enthusiasm  seemed  to 
give  strength  to  his  body. 

“  Oh,  no  !  ”  exclaimed  General  Marion,  when  a  visit¬ 
ing  British  officer  announced  his  intention  to  return ;  “  it 
is  now  about  our  time  of  dining,  and  I  hope,  sir,  you 
will  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your  company  at  dinner.” 
The  stranger  looked  about  him  in  astonishment,  for  he 
could  see  no  sign  of  pot ‘or  pan  or  any  other  cooking 
utensil ;  but  this  was  not  the  first  surprise  he  had  ex¬ 
perienced  that  forenoon.  He  had  been  led  into  camp 
blindfolded,  bearing  a  flag  of  truce,  and  expecting  to  see 
a  general  of  commanding  presence,  and  an  army  of  giant 
men,  for  the  band  of  the  famous  “Swamp-Fox”  was 
then  a  terror  to  every  red-coat  in  the  Carolinas.  When 
the  bandage  was  removed,  he  was  introduced  to  a  swar¬ 
thy,  smoke-dried  little  man,  scantily  clad  in  threadbare 
homespun  ;  and,  in  place  of  tall  ranks  of  gayly  dressed 
soldiers,  he  beheld  a  handful  of  sunburned,  yellow¬ 
legged  militiamen. 

“  Well,  Tom,”  said  Marion  to  one  of  his  men,  after 
the  visitor  had  accepted  his  invitation,  “  give  us  our 
dinner  ;  ”  and  with  a  stick  the  soldier  rolled  out  a  heap 
of  sweet  potatoes  that  had  been  snugly  roasting  under 
the  embers.  “I  fear,  sir,”  continued  the  general,  “our 
dinner  will  not  prove  so  palatable  to  you  as  I  could 
wish,  but  it  is  the  best  we  have.” 

The  officer  began  to  eat  one  of  the  potatoes,  out  of 
politeness,  but  soon  he  laughed  heartily  at  the  strange 


176 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


meal.  “  I  beg  pardon,  general,- ”  said  be,  “  but  one  can* 
not  always  command  himself,  you  know.”  “  I  sup¬ 
pose  it  is  not  equal  to  your  style  of  living,”  suggested 
Marion.  “  No,  indeed,”  quoth  the  other,  “  and  I  ima¬ 
gine  this  is  one  of  your  accidental  Lent  dinners.  In 
general,  no  doubt,  you  live  a  great  deal  better.”  “  Bather 
worse,”  answered  the  general,  “for  often  we  don’t  get 
even  enough  of  this.”  “  Heavens  !  ”  rejoined  the  offi¬ 
cer,  “but  probably,  stinted  in  provisions,  you  draw 
noble  pay  ?”  “Not  a  cent,  sir,”  said  Marion,  “not  a 
cent.”  “  Heavens  and  earth  !  ”  exclaimed  the  Briton, 
“  then  you  must  be  in  a  bad  box.  I  don’t  see,  general, 
how  you  can  stand  it.”  “  Why,  sir,”  returned  Marion, 
“  these  things  depend  upon  feeling.  The  heart  is  all, 
and  when  that  is  much  interested,  a  man  can  do  any¬ 
thing.  Many  a  youth  would  think  it  hard  to  make  him¬ 
self  a  slave  for  fourteen  years.  But  let  him  be  head 
and  ears  over  in  love,  and  with  such  a  beauteous  sweet¬ 
heart  as  Bach  el,  and  he  will  think  no  more  of  fourteen 
years’  servitude  than  young  Jacob  did.  This  is  exactly 
my  case.  I  am  in  love,  and  my  sweetheart  is  Liberty, 
and  I  am  happy  indeed.  I  would  rather  fight  for  such 
blessings  for  my  country  and  feed  on  roots,  than  keep 
aloof,  though  wallowing  in  all  the  luxuries  of  Solomon. 
For  now,  sir,  I  walk  the  soil  that  gave  me  birth,  and  ex¬ 
ult  in  the  thought  that  I  am  not  unworthy  of  it.  I  look 
upon  these  venerable  trees  around  me  and  feel  that  I  do 
not  dishonor  them,  The  children  of  future  generations 
may  never  hear  my  name,  but  it  gladdens  my  heart  to 
think  that  I  am  now  contending  for  their  freedom  and 
all  its  countless  blessings.” 

When  the  British  officer  returned,  his  colonel  asked : 
“Why  do  you  look  so  serious  ?”  “I  have  cause,  sir,” 
said  he,  “  to  look  serious.”  “  What,  has  General  Marion 
refused  to  treat  ?  ”  “  No,  sir,”  said  the  officer.  “  Well, 

then,  has  old  Washington  defeated  Sir  Henry  Clinton, 
and  broken  up  our  army?”  “No,  sir,  not  that,  but 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  177 


worse.”  “  Ah !  what  can  be  worse  ?  ”  asked  the  colonel. 

Why,  sir,”  replied  the  officer,  “I  have  seen  an  Amer¬ 
ican  general  and  his  officers  without  pay,  and  almost 
without  clothes,  living  on  roots  and  drinking  water,  and 
all  for  liberty !  What  chance  have  we  against  such 
men  ?  ”  And  at  the  first  opportunity  the  young  officer 
threw  up  his  commission  and  retired  from  the  service, 
for  he  believed  that  the  enthusiasm  which  can  conquer 
such  hardships  is  invincible. 

Indifference  never  leads  armies  that  conquer,  never 
models  statues  that  live,  nor  breathes  sublime  music, 
nor  harnesses  the  forces  of  nature,  nor  rears  impressive 
architecture,  nor  moves  the  soul  with  poetry,  nor  the 
world  with  heroic  philanthropies.  Enthusiasm,  as 
Charles  Bell  says  of  the  hand,  wrought  the  statue  of 
Memnon  and  hung  the  brazen  gates  of  Thebes.  It  fixed 
the  mariner’s  trembling  needle  upon  its  axis,  and  first 
heaved  the  tremendous  bar  of  the  printing-press.  It 
opened  the  tubes  for  Galileo,  until  world  after  world 
swept  before  his  vision,  and  it  reefed  the  high  topsail 
that  rustled  over  Columbus  in  the  morning  breezes 
of  the  Bahamas.  It  has  held  the  sword  with  which 
freedom  has  fought  her  battles,  and  poised  the  axe 
of  the  dauntless  woodman  as  he  opened  the  paths 
of  civilization,  and  turned  the  mystic  leaves  upon 
which  Milton  and  Shakespeare  inscribed  their  burning 
thoughts. 

Horace  Greeley  said  that  the  best  product  of  labor  is 
the  highminded  workman  with  an  enthusiasm  for  his 
work. 

“The  best  method  is  obtained  by  earnestness,”  said 
Salvini.  “If  you  can  impress  people  with  the  convic¬ 
tion  that  you  feel  what  you  say,  they  will  pardon  many 
shortcomings.  And  above  all,  study,  study,  study  !  All 
the  genius  in  the  world  will  not  help  you  along  with 
any  art,  unless  you  become  a  hard  student.  It  has 
taken  me  years  to  master  a  single  part.” 


178 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


There  is  a  "  go,”  a  zeal,  a  furore,  almost  a  fanaticism 
for  one’s  ideals  or  calling,  that  is  peculiar  to  our  Amer¬ 
ican  temperament  and  life.  .You  do  not  find  this  in 
tropical  countries.  It  did  not  exist  fifty  years  ago. 
It  could  not  be  found  then  even  on  the  London  Ex¬ 
change.  But  the  influence  of  the  United  States  and  of 
Australia,  where,  if  a  person  is  to  succeed,  he  must  be 
on  the  jump  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  being,  has  finally 
extended  until  what  used  to  be  the  peculiar  strength  of 
a  few  great  minds  has  now  become  characteristic  of  the 
leading  nations.  Enthusiasm  is  the  being  awake ;  it  is 
the  tingling  of  every  fibre  of  one’s  being  to  do  the  work 
that  one’s  heart  desires.  Enthusiasm  made  Victor 
Hugo  lock  up  his  clothes  while  writing  “  Notre  Dame,” 
that  he  might  not  leave  the  work  until  it  was  finished. 
The  great  actor  Garrick  well  illustrated  it  when  asked 
by  an  unsuccessful  preacher  the  secret  of  his  power  over 
audiences :  “You  speak  of  eternal  verities  and  what 
you  know  to  be  true,  as  if  you  hardly  believed  what 
you  were  saying  yourself,  whereas  I  utter  what  I  know 
to  be  unreal  and  untrue,  as  if  I  did  believe  it  in  my 
very  soul.” 

Gladstone’s  intense  earnestness  and  enthusiasm  have 
been  a  perpetual  inspiration  to  his  associates. 

“  When  he  comes  into  a  room,  every  man  feels  as  if 
he  had  taken  a  tonic  and  had  a  new  lease  of  life,”  said 
a  man  when  asked  the  reason  for  his  selection,  after  he, 
with  two  companions,  had  written  upon  a  slip  of  paper 
the  name  of  the  most  agreeable  companion  he  had  ever 
met.  “  He  is  an  eager,  vivid  fellow,  full  of  joy,  bub¬ 
bling  over  with  spirits.  His  sympathies  are  quick  as 
an  electric  flash.” 

“He  throws  himself  into  the  occasion,  whatever  it 
may  be,  with  his  whole  heart,”  said  the  second,  in 
praise  of  the  man  of  his  choice. 

“He  makes  the  best  of  everything,”  said  the  third, 
speaking  of  his  own  most  cherished  acquaintance. 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  170 

The  three  were  traveling  correspondents  of  great  Eng. 
lish  journals,  who  had  visited  every  quarter  of  the 
world  and  talked  with  all  kinds  of  men.  The  papers 
were  examined,  and  all  were  found  to  contain  the  name 
of  a  prominent  lawyer  in  Melbourne,  Australia. 

“If  if  were  not  for  respect  for  human  opinions,”  said 
Madame  de  Stael  to  M.  Mole,  “  I  would  not  open  my 
window  to  see  the  Bay  of  Naples  for  the  first  time, 
while  I  would  go  five  hundred  leagues  to  talk  with  a 
man  of  genius  whom  I  had  not  seen.” 

Enthusiasm  is  that  secret  and  harmonious  spirit 
which  hovers  over  the  production  of  genius,  throwing 
the  reader  of  a  book,  or  the  spectator  of  a  statue,  into 
the  very  ideal  presence  whence  these  works  have  origi¬ 
nated.  A  great  work  always  leaves  us  in  a  state  of 
j  lofty  contemplation  if  we  are  in  sympathy  with  it. 

“  One  moonlight  evening  in  winter,”  writes  the  bio- 
grapher  of  Beethoven,  “we  were  walking  through  a  nar¬ 
row  street  of  Bonn.  ‘  Hush  !  ’  exclaimed  the  great  com¬ 
poser,  suddenly  pausing  before  a  little,  mean  dwelling, 

4  what  sound  is  that  ?  It  is  from  my  Sonata  in  F. 
Hark !  how  well  it  is  played !  ’ 

“  In  the  midst  of  the  finale  there  was  a  break,  and  a 
sobbing  voice  cried:  ‘I  cannot  play  any  more.  It  is 
so  beautiful  j  it  is  utterly  beyond  my  power  to  do  it  jus¬ 
tice.  Oh,  what  would  I  not  give  to  go  to  the  concert  at 
Cologne  !  ’  ‘  Ah  !  my  sister/  said  a  second  voice  ;  ‘  why 

create  regrets  when  there  is  no  remedy?  We  can 
scarcely  pay  our  rent.’  ‘You  are  right/  said  the  first 
speaker,  ‘and  yet  I  wish  for  once  in  my  life  to  hear 
some  really  good  music.  But  it  is  of  no  use.’ 

Bet  us  go  in,’  said  Beethoven.  ‘  Go  in  !  ’  I  remon¬ 
strated  ;  ‘what  should  we  go  in  for?’  ‘I  will  play  to 
her/  replied  my  companion  in  an  excited  tone  ;  ‘here  is 
feeling,  —  genius,  —  understanding  !  I  will  play  to  her, 
and  she  will  understand  it.  Pardon  me/  he  continued, 
as  lie  opened  the  door  and  saw  a  young  man  sitting  By 


180 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


a  table,  mending  shoes,  and  a  young  girl  leaning  sorrow* 
fully  upon  an  old-fashioned  piano ;  ‘  I  heard  music  and 
was  tempted  to  enter.  I  am  a  musician.  I  —  I  also 
overheard  something  of  what  you  said.  You  wish  to 
hear  —  that  is,  you  would  like  —  that  is  —  shall  I  play 
for  you  ? ’ 

“ ‘ Thank  you,’  said  the  shoemaker,  ‘but  our  piano  is 
so  wretched,  and  we  have  no  music.’ 

‘“No  music!’  exclaimed  the  composer;  ‘how,  then, 
does  the  young  lady  —  I  —  I  entreat  your  pardon,’  he 
added,  stammering  as  he  saw  that  the  girl  was  blind ; 
‘  I  had  not  perceived  before.  Then  you  play  by  ear  ? 
But  where  do  you  hear  the  music,  since  you  frequent 
no  concerts  ?  ’ 

“‘We  lived  at  Bruhl  for  two  years  ;  and,  while  there, 
I  used  to  hear  a  lady  practicing  near  us.  During  the 
summer  evenings  her  windows  were  generally  open,  and 
I  walked  to  and  fro  outside  to  listen  to  her.’ 

“  Beethoven  seated  himself  at  the  piano.  Never, 
during  all  the  years  I  knew  him,  did  I  hear  him  play 
better  than  to  that  blind  girl  and  her  brother.  Even 
the  old  instrument  seemed  inspired.  The  young  man 
and  woman  sat  as  if  entranced  by  the  magical,  sweet 
sounds  that  flowed  out  upon  the  air  in  rhythmical  swell 
and  cadence,  until,  suddenly,  the  flame  of  the  single 
candle  wavered,  sank,  flickered,  and  went  out.  The 
shutters  were  thrown  open,  admitting  a  flood  of  brilliant 
moonlight,  but  the  player  paused,  as  if  lost  in  thought. 


“  ‘  Wonderful  man !  ’  said  the  shoemaker  in  a  low 
tone  ;  ‘  whe  and  what  are  you  ?  ’ 

“  ‘  Listen !  ’  replied  the  master,  and  he  played  the 
opening  bars  of  the  Sonata  in  F.  ‘  Then  you  are  Bee¬ 
thoven  !  ’  burst  from  the  young  people  in  delighted 
recognition.  ‘Oh,  play  to  us  once  more,’  they  added, 
as  he  rose  to  go,  —  ‘  only  once  more  !  ’ 

“  ‘  I  will  improvise  a  sonata  to  the  moonlight,’  said  he, 
gazing  thoughtfully  upon  the  liquid  stars  shining  so 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  181 

softly  out  of  the  depths  of  a  cloudless  winter  sky.  Then 
he  played  a  sad  and  infinitely  lovely  movement,  which 
crept  gently  over  the  instrument,  like  the  calm  flow  of 
moonlight  over  the  earth.  This  was  followed  by  a  wild, 
elfin  passage  in  triple  time  —  a  sort  of  grotesque  inter* 
lude,  like  the  dance  of  fairies  upon  the  lawn.  Then 
came  a  swift  agitated  ending  —  a  breathless,  hurrying, 
trembling  movement,  descriptive  of  flight,  and  uncer¬ 
tainty,  and  vague  impulsive  terror,  which  carried  us 
away  on  its  rustling  wings,  and  left  us  all  in  emotion 
and  wonder.  ‘Farewell  to  you/  he  said,  as  he  rose  and 
turned  toward  the  door.  ‘  You  will  come  again  ?  ’  asked 
host  and  hostess  in  a  breath.  ‘  Yes,  yes/  said  Beethoven 
hurriedly,  ‘ 1  will  come  again,  and  give  the  young  lady 
some  lessons.  Farewell  !’  Then  to  me  he  added:  ‘Let 
us  make  haste  back,  that  I  may  write  out  that  sonata 
while  I  can  yet  remember  it.’  We  did  return  in  haste, 
and  not  until  long  past  the  dawn  of  day  did  he  rise  from 
his  table  with  the  full  score  of  the  Moonlight  Sonata  in 
his  hand.” 

So  absorbed  was  Archimedes  in  a  problem  which  he 
had  traced  upon  the  sand  that  he  did  not  know  the 
Roman  army  had  captured  Syracuse.  To  the  Roman 
soldier  who  rushed  towards  him  with  drawn  sword,  not 
knowing  him,  he  said,  glancing  at  his  figures  on  the 
sand :  “  Hold  your  hand  a  little.  Only  spare  my  life 
until  I  have  solved  this  problem.”  But  the  legionary 
cut  down  the  greatest  man  of  the  age  without  a  moment’s 
warning. 

Michael  Angelo  studied  anatomy  twelve  years,  nearly 
ruining  his  health,  but  this  course  determined  his  style, 
his  practice,  and  his  glory.  He  made  every  tool  he  used 
in  sculpture,  such  as  files,  chisels,  and  pincers.  In 
painting  he  prepared  all  his  own  colors,  and  would  not 
let  servants  or  students  even  mix  them. 

Raphael’s  enthusiasm  inspired  every  artist  in  Italy, 
and  his  modest,  charming  manners  disarmed  envy  and 


182 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


jealousy.  He  has  been  called  the  only  distinguished 
man  who  lived  and  died  without  an  enemy  or  detractor. 

Again  and  again  poor  Bunyan  might  have  had  his 
liberty ;  but  not  the  separation  from  his  poor  blind 
daughter  Mary,  which  he  said  was  like  pulling  the  flesh 
from  his  bones  ;  not  the  need  of  a  poor  family  dependent 
upon  him ;  not  the  love  of  liberty  nor  the  spur  of  ambi¬ 
tion  could  induce  him  to  forego  his  plain  preaching  in 
public  places.  He  had  so  forgotten  his  early  education 
that  his  wife  had  to  teach  him  again  to  read  and  write. 
It  was  the  enthusiasm  of  conviction  which  enabled 
this  poor,  ignorant,  despised  Bedford  tinker  to  write  his 
immortal  allegory  with  such  fascination  that  a  whole 
world  has  read  it. 

Only  thoughts  that  breathe  in  words  that  burn  can 
kindle  the  spark  slumbering  in  the  heart  of  another. 

Bare  consecration  to  a  great  enterprise  is  found  in 
the  work  of  the  late  Francis  Parkman.  While  a  student 
at  Harvard,  he  determined  to  write  the  history  of  the 
French  and  English  in  North  America.  With  a  steadi¬ 
ness  and  devotion  seldom  equaled  he  gave  his  life,  his 
fortune,  his  all  to  this  one  great  object.  Although  he 
had  ruined  his  health  while  among  the  Dakota  Indians, 
collecting  material  for  his  history,  and  could  not  use  his 
eyes  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  time  for  fifty  years,  he 
did  not  swerve  a  hair’s  breadth  from  the  high  purpose 
formed  in  his  youth,  until  he  gave  to  the  world  the  best 
history  upon  this  subject  ever  written. 

After  Lincoln  had  walked  six  miles  to  borrow  a 
grammar,  he  returned  home  and  burned  one  shaving 
after  another  while  he  studied  the  precious  prize. 

Gilbert  Becket,  an  English  Crusader,  was  taken  pris¬ 
oner,  and  became  a  slave  in  the  palace  of  a  Saracen 
prince,  where  he  not  only  gained  the  confidence  of  his 
master,  but  also  the  love  of  his  master’s  fair  daughter. 
By  and  by  he  escaped  and  returned  to  England,  but  the 
devoted  girl  determined  to  follow  him.  She  knew  bufc 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  183 


two  words  of  the  English  language  — •  London  and 
Gilbert;  but  by  repeating  the  first  she  obtained  pas¬ 
sage  in  a  vessel  to  the  great  metropolis,  and  then  she 
went  from  street  to  street  pronouncing  the  other — = 
“  Gilbert.”  At  last  she  came  to  the  street  on  which 
Gilbert  lived  in  prosperity.  The  unusual  crowd  drew 
the  family  to  the  window,  when  Gilbert  himself  saw 
and  recognized  her,  and  took  to  his  arms  and  home  his 
far-come  princess  with  her  solitary  fond  word. 

The  most  irresistible  charm  of  youth  is  its  bubbling 
enthusiasm.  Youth  sees  no  darkness  ahead,  —  no  de¬ 
file  that  has  no  outlet,  —  it  forgets  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  failure  in  the  world,  and  believes  that  mankind 
has  been  waiting  all  these  centuries  for  him  to  come 
and  be  the  liberator  of  truth  and  energy  and  beauty. 

Of  what  use  was  it  to  forbid  the  boy  Handel  to  touch 
a  musical  instrument,  or  to  forbid  him  going  to  school, 
lest  he  learn  the  gamut  ?  He  stole  midnight  interviews 
with  a  dumb  spinet  in  a  secret  attic.  The  boy  Bach 
copied  whole  books  of  studies  by  moonlight,  for  want  of 
a  candle  churlishly  denied.  Nor  was  he  disheartened 
when  these  copies  were  taken  from  him.  The  boy 
painter  West  begins  in  a  garret,  and  plunders  the 
family  cat  for  bristles  to  make  his  brushes. 

It  is  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  which  cuts  the  Gordian 
knot  age  cannot  untie.  “  People  smile  at  the  enthu¬ 
siasm  of  youth,”  says  Charles  Kingsley ;  “  that  en¬ 
thusiasm  which  they  themselves  secretly  look  back  to 
with  a  sigh,  perhaps  unconscious  that  it  is  partly  their 
own  fault  that  they  ever  lost  it.” 

How  much  the  world  owes  to  the  enthusiasm  of  Dante  I 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  wrote  prose  and  verse  at 
ten  and  published  a  volume  of  poems  at  seventeen. 

Tennyson  wrote  his  first  volume  at  eighteen,  and  at 
nineteen  gained  a  medal  at  Cambridge. 

“The  most  beautiful  works  of  all  art  were  done  in 
youth,”  says  Buskin.  “  Almost  everything  that  is 


184 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


great  has  been  clone  by  youth,”  wrote  Disraeli.  “  The 
world’s  interests  are,  under  God,  in  the  hands  of  the 
young,”  says  Dr.  Trumbull. 

It  was  the  youth  Hercules  that  performed  the  Twelve 
Labors.  Enthusiastic  youth  faces  the  sun,  its  shadows 
all  behind  it.  The  heart  rules  youth ;  the  head,  man¬ 
hood.  Alexander  was  a  mere  youth  when  he  rolled 
back  the  Asiatic  hordes  that  threatened  to  overwhelm 
European  civilization  almost  at  its  birth.  Napoleon  had 
conquered  Italy  at  twenty-five.  Henry  Kirke  White 
died  at  twenty-one,  but  what  a  record  for  a  youth  he 
left.  Byron  and  Raphael  died  at  thirty-seven,  an  age 
which  has  been  fatal  to  many  a  genius,  and  Poe  lived 
but  a  few  months  longer.  Romulus  founded  Rome  at 
twenty.  Pitt  and  Bolingbroke  were  ministers  almost 
before  they  were  men.  Gladstone  was  in  Parliament  in 
early  manhood.  Newton  made  some  of  his  greatest  dis¬ 
coveries  before  he  was  twenty-five.  Keats  died  at 
twenty-five,  Shelley  at  twenty-nine.  Luther  was  a 
triumphant  reformer  at  twenty-five.  Ignatius  Loyola 
made  his  pilgrimage  at  thirty.  It  is  said  that  no 
English  poet  ever  equaled  Chatterton  at  twenty-one. 
Melancthon  gained  the  Greek  chair  at  Wittemburg  at 
twenty-one.  Whitefield  and  Wesley  began  their  great 
revival  as  students  at  Oxford,  and  the  former  had  made 
his  influence  felt  throughout  England  before  he  was 
twenty-four.  Victor  Hugo  wrote  a  tragedy  at  fifteen, 
and  had  taken  three  prizes  at  the  Academy  and  gained 
the  title  of  Master  before  he  was  twenty. 

Many  of  the  world’s  greatest  geniuses  never  saw  forty 
years.  Never  before  has  the  young  man,  who  is  driven 
by  his  enthusiasm,  had  such  an  opportunity  as  he  has 
to-day.  It  is  die  age  of  young  men  and  young  women. 
Their  ardor  is  their  crown,  before  which  the  languid 
and  the  passive  bow. 

But  if  enthusiasm  is  irresistible  in  youth,  how  much 
more  so  is  it  when  carried  into  old  age  !  Gladstone  at 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  ENTHUSIASM.  185 


eighty  had  ten  times  the  weight  and  power  that  any 
man  of  twenty-five  would  have  with  the  same  ideals. 
The  glory  of  age  is  only  the  glory  of  its  enthusiasm, 
and  the  respect  paid  to  white  hairs  is  reverence  to  a 
heart  fervent,  in  spite  of  the  torpid  influence  of  an  en¬ 
feebled  body.  The  “  Odyssey  ”  was  the  creation  of  a 
blind  old  man,  but  that  old  man  was  Homer.  “  I  argue 
not  against  Heaven’s  hand  or  will,”  said  Milton,  when 
old,  blind,  and  poor  ;  u  nor  bate  a  jot  of  heart  or  hope ; 
but  still  bear  up  and  steer  right  onward.”  He  was 
chilled  with  the  frosts  of  time  when  he  depicted  the  love 
of  the  first  pair  in  Eden. 

The  contagious  zeal  of  an  old  man,  Peter  the  Hermit, 
rolled  the  chivalry  of  Europe  upon  the  ranks  of  Islam. 

Dandolo,  the  Doge  of  Venice,  won  battles  at  ninety- 
four,  and  refused  a  crown  at  ninety-six.  Wellington 
planned  and  superintended  fortifications  at  eighty. 
Bacon  and  Humboldt  were  enthusiastic  students  to  the 
last  gasp.  Wise  old  Montaigne  was  shrewd  in  his  gray- 
beard  wisdom  and  loving  life,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
fits  of  gout  and  colic. 

Dr.  Johnson’s  best  work,  “  The  Lives  of  the  Poets,” 
was  written  when  he  was  seventy-eight.  Defoe  was 
fifty-eight  when  he  published  “  Robinson  Crusoe.” 
Newton  wrote  new  briefs  to  his  “Principia”  at  eighty- 
three.  Plato  died  writing,  at  eighty-one.  Tom  Scott 
began  the  study  of  Hebrew  at  eighty-six.  Galileo  was 
nearly  seventy  when  he  wrote  on  the  laws  of  motion. 
James  Watt  learned  German  at  eighty-five.  Mrs.  Som¬ 
erville  finished  her  u  Molecular  and  Microscopic  Sci¬ 
ence  ”  at  eighty-nine.  Humboldt  completed  his  u  Cos¬ 
mos  ”  at  ninety,  a  month  before  his  death.  Burke  was 
thirty-five  before  he  obtained  a  seat  in  Parliament,  yet 
he  made  the  world  feel  his  character.  Unknown  at 
forty,  at  forty-two  Grant  was  one  of  the  most  famous 
generals  in  history.  Eli  Whitney  was  twenty-three 
when  he  decided  to  prepare  for  college,  and  was  thirty 


186 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


when  he  graduated  from  Yale  ;  yet  his  cotton-gin  opened 
a  great  industrial  future  for  the  Southern  States.  What 
a  power  was  Bismarck  at  eighty  !  Lord  Palmerston 
was  an  “  Old  Boy  ”  to  the  last.  He  became  Prime 
Minister  of  England  the  second  time  at  seventy-five, 
and  died  Prime  Minister  at  eighty-one.  Galileo  at 
seventy-seven,  blind  and  feeble,  was  working  every  day;. 
adapting  the  principle  of  the  pendulum  to  clocks 
“  There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  Goldsmith  when 
he  was  young, ”  said  Johnson;  “  he  was  a  plant  that 
flowered  late  in  life.”  George  Stephenson  did  not  learn 
to  read  or  write  until  he  had  reached  manhood.  Rich¬ 
ard  Baxter  did  not  know  a  single  letter  at  eighteen. 
Some  of  Longfellow’s,  Whittier’s,  and  Tennyson’s  best 
work  was  done  after  they  were  seventy. 

At  sixty-three  Dryden  began  the  translation  of  the 
“iEneid.”  John  Colby,  brother-in-law  of  Daniel  Web¬ 
ster,  learned  to  read  after  he  was  eighty-four,  that  he 
might  read  the  Bible.  Robert  Hall  learned  Italian 
when  past  sixty,  that  he  might  read  Dante  in  the  origi¬ 
nal.  ISToali  Webster  studied  seventeen  languages  after 
he  was  fifty.  Ludovico,  at  one  hundred  and  fifteen, 
wrote  the  memoirs  of  his  times.  Cicero  said  well  that 
men  are  like  wine :  age  sours  the  bad,  and  improves  the 
good. 

With  enthusiasm  we  may  retain  the  youth  of  the 
spirit  until  the  hair  is  silvered,  even  as  the  Gulf  Stream 
softens  the  rigors  of  northern  Europe. 

“  How  ages  thine  heart,  —  towards  youth  ?  If  not* 
doubt  thy  fitness  for  thy  work.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE. 

5<  Who  is  stronger  than  thou^?  ”  asked  Brahma  ;  and  Force  replied 
*  Address.”  — Victok  Hugo. 

Address  makes  opportunities  ;  the  want  of  it  gives  them.  —  Bovee. 

He  ’ll  suit  his  bearing  to  the  hour, 

Laugh,  listen,  learn,  or  teach.  Eliza  Cook. 

A  man  who  knows  the  world  will  not  only  make  the  most  of  everything 
he  does  know,  but  of  many  things  he  does  not  know  ;  and  will  gain  more 
credit  by  his  adroit  mode  of  hiding  his  ignorance,  than  the  pedant  by  his 
awkward  attempt  to  exhibit  his  erudition.  —  Colton. 

The  art  of  using  moderate  abilities  to  advantage  wins  praise,  and  often 
acquires  more  reputation  than  actual  brilliancy.  —  Rochefoucauld. 

Tact  clinches  the  bargain, 

Sails  out  of  the  bay, 

Gets  the  vote  in  the  Senate, 

Spite  of  Webster  or  Clay.  Holmes. 

“A  loaf  baked  is  better  than  a  harvest  contemplated.  An  acre  in 
Cook  County  is  better  than  a  whole  principality  in  Utopia.” 

“  I  never  will  surrender  to  a  nigger/7  said  a  Confed¬ 
erate  officer,  when  a  colored  soldier  chased  and  caught 
him.  “  Berry  sorry,  massa/7  said  the  negro,  leveling 
his  rifle ;  “  must  kill  you  den ;  hain’t  time  to  go  hack 
and  git  a  white  man.77  The  officer  surrendered. 

“When  God  endowed  human  beings  with  brains,77 
says  Montesquieu,  “  he  did  not  intend  to  guarantee 
them.77 

“  Mr.  President,77  said  an  old  boatswain,  speaking  for 
a  number  of  sailors  w'ho  desired  promotion  without 
increase  of  pay;  “I  can  put  this  7ere  matter  so7s  you 
can  see  it  plain.  Now  here  I  be  a  parent — in  fact,  a 
father.  My  son  is  a  midshipman.  He  outranks  me, 
ion’t  you  observe  ?  That  ain’t  right,  don’t  you  see  ?  77 
“  Indeed/7  said  President  Grant ;  “  who  appointed 


188 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


him  ?  ”  “  The  Secretary  here/’  replied  the  boatswain. 

“  It  ain’t  right,  don’t  you  see,  that  I  should  be  beneath 
him.  Why,  if  I  was  to  go  onto  his  ship  the  boy  I 
brought  up  to  obedience  would  boss  his  own  father. 
Jest  think  o’  that !  An’  he  has  better  quarters  ’n  me, 
an’  better  grub,  nice  furniture  ’n’  all  that,  sleeps  in  a 
nice  soft  bed,  an’  all  that.  See  ?  ” 

“  Yes,”  said  the  President,  “the  world  is  full  of  in¬ 
equalities.  I  know  of  a  case  quite  similar  to  yours.  I 
know  of  an  old  fellow  who  is  a  postmaster  in  a  little 
town  of  Kentucky.  He  lives  in  a  plain  way  in  a  small 
house.  He  is  a  nice  old  man,  but  he  is  n’t  much  in 
rank.  His  son  outranks  him  more  than  your  son  does 
you.  His  son  lives  in  Washington,  in  the  biggest  house 
there,  and  he  is  surrounded  by  the  nicest  of  furniture, 
and  eats  and  drinks  everything  he  takes  a  notion  to. 
He  could  remove  his  father  from  office  in  a  minute  if 
he  wanted  to.  And  the  old  man  —  that ’s  Jesse  Grant, 
you  know  —  does  n’t  seem  to  care  about  the  inequality 
in  rank.  I  suppose  he  is  glad  to  see  his  boy  get  along 
in  the  world.” 

The  other  sailors  laughed,  slapped  the  old  boatswain 
on  the  back,  and  filed  out. 

When  Abraham  Lincoln  was  running  for  the  legisla¬ 
ture,  the  first  time,  on  the  platform  of  the  improvement 
of  the  Sangamon  River,  he  went  to  secure  the  votes  of 
thirty  men  who  were  cradling  a  wheat-field.  They 
asked  no  questions  about  internal  improvements,  but 
only  seemed  curious  to  know  whether  he  had  muscle 
enough  to  represent  them  in  the  legislature.  Lincoln 
took  up  a  cradle  and  led  the  gang  around  the  field. 
The  whole  thirty  voted  for  him. 

“  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,”  said  Napoleon  in  surprise 
to  his  cook,  “  but  at  whatever  hour  I  call  for  my  break¬ 
fast  my  chicken  is  always  ready  and  always  in  good 
condition.”  This  seemed  to  him  the  more  strange  be 
cause  sometimes  he  would  breakfast  at  eight  and  at 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE.  189 

other  times  as  late  as  eleven.  “  Sire,”  -said  the  cook, 
u  the  reason  is,  that  every  quarter  of  an  h®ur  I  put  a 
fresh  chicken  down  to  roast,  so  that  your  Majesty  is 
sure  always  to  have  it  at  perfection.” 

Talent  in  this  age  is  no  match  for  tact.  We  see  its 
failure  everywhere.  Tact  will  manipulate  one  talent 
so  as  to  get  more  out  of  it  in  a  lifetime  than  ten  talents 
will  accomplish  without  tact.  “  Talent  lies  abed  till 
noon  ;  tact  is  up  at  six.”  Talent  is  power,  tact  is  skill. 
Talent  knows  what  to  do,  tact  knows  how  to  do  it. 
Talent  theorizes,  tact  performs.  Philosophers  discuss, 
practical  men  act. 

The  world  is  full  of  theoretical,  one-sided,  impracti¬ 
cal  men,  who  have  turned  all  the  energies  of  their  lives 
into  one  faculty  until  they  have  developed,  not  a  full- 
orbed,  symmetrical  man,  but  a  monstrosity,  while  all 
their  other  faculties  have  atrophied  and  died.  We 
often  call  these  one-sided  men  geniuses,  and  the  world 
excuses  their  impractical  and  almost  idiotic  conduct  in 
most  matters,  because  they  can  perforin  one  kind  of 
work  that  no  one  else  can  do  as  well.  A  merchant  is 
excused  if  he  is  a  giant  in  merchandise,  though  he  may 
be  an  imbecile  in  the  drawing-room.  Adam  Smith 
could  teach  the  world  economy  in  his  “  Wealth  of 
Nations,”  but  he  could  not  manage  the  finances  of  his 
own  household.  Many  great  men  are  very  impractical 
even  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life.  Isaac  Newton 
could  read  the  secret  of  creation ;  but,  tired  of  rising 
from  his  chair  to  open  the  door  for  a  cat  and  her  kitten, 
he  had  two  holes  cut  through  the  panels  for  them  to 
pass  at  will,  a  large  hole  for  the  cat,  and  a  small  one 
for  the  kitten.  Beethoven  was  a  great  musician,  but 
he  sent  three  hundred  florins  to  pay  for  six  shirts  and 
half  a  dozen  handkerchiefs.  He  paid  his  tailor  as 
large  a  sum  in  advance,  and  yet  he  was  so  poor  at 
times  that  he  had  only  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  water 
for  dinner.  He  did  not  know  enough  of  business  to 


190  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

cut  the  coupon  from  a  bond  when  he  wanted  money, 
but  sold  the  whole  instrument.  It  was  said  of  Dr. 
J ohnson  that  he  “  uplifts  the  club  of  Hercules  to  crush 
a  butterfly  or  brain  a  gnat.”  Dean  Swift  nearly  starved 
in  a  country  parish  where  his  more  practical  classmate 
Stafford  became  rich.  One  of  Napoleon’s  marshals 
understood  military  tactics  as  well  as  his  chief,  but  he 
did  not  know  men  so  well,  and  lacked  the  other’s  skill 
and  tact.  Napoleon  might  fall ;  but,  like  a  cat,  he 
would  fall  upon  his  feet.  For  his  argument  in  the 
Florida  Case,  a  fee  of  one  thousand  dollars  in  crisp  new 
bills  of  large  denomination  was  handed  to  Daniel 
Webster  as  he  sat  reading  in  his  library.  The  next 
day  he  wished  to  use  some  of  the  money,  but  could  not 
find  any  of  the  bills.  Years  afterward,  as  he  turned 
the  page  of  a  book,  he  found  a  bank-bill  without  a 
crease  in  it.  On  turning  the  next  leaf  he  found  an¬ 
other,  and  so  on  until  he  took  the  whole  amount  lost 
from  the  places  where  he  had  deposited  them  thought¬ 
lessly,  as  he  read.  Learning  of  a  new  issue  of  gold 
pieces  at  the  Treasury,  he  directed  his  Secretary, 
Charles  Lanman,  to  obtain  several  hundred  dollars’ 
worth.  A  day  or  two  after  he  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  for  one,  but  they  were  all  gone.  Webster  was 
at  first  puzzled,  but  on  reflection  remembered  that  he 
had  given  them  away,  one  by  one,  to  friends  who 
seemed  to  appreciate  their  beauty.  A  professor  in 
mathematics  in  a  New  England  college,  a  (C  book-worm,” 
was  asked  by  his  wife  to  bring  home  some  coffee. 

“ How  much  will  you  have  ?  ”  asked  the  merchant. 

“  Well,  1  declare,  my  wife  did  not  say,  but  I  guess  a 
bushel  will  do.” 

Many  a  great  man  has  been  so  absent-minded  at 
times  as  to  seem  devoid  of  common  sense. 

llie  piofessor  is  not  at  home,”  said  his  servant  who 
looked  out  of  a  window  in  the  dark  and  failed  to  recog¬ 
nize  Lessing  when  the  latter  knocked  at  his  own  door 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE.  191 

in  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness.  “  Oh,  very  well,”  replied 
Lessing  ;  “  no  matter,  I  ’ll  call  at  another  time.” 

A  sailor  who  narrowly  escaped  death  from  a  fever 
contracted  in  the  West  Indies  sent  a  barrel  of  cranber¬ 
ries  to  his  faithful  nurse.  A  letter  of  grateful  acknow¬ 
ledgment  was  soon  received,  with  a  postscript  adding 
that,  unfortunately,  although  the  fruit  looked  pretty, 
it  had  turned  sour  on  the  passage,  and  had  to  be 
thrown  away.  “  That,”  said  the  sailor,  “  is  what  I  call 
missin’  the  sweetness  of  things  ’cause  you  don’t  know 
how  to  get  at  it.” 

Louis  Philippe  said  he  was  the  only  sovereign  in 
Europe  fit  to  govern,  for  he  could  black  his  own  boots. 
The  world  is  full  of  men  and  women  apparently  splen¬ 
didly  endowed  and  highly  educated,  yet  who  can 
scarcely  get  a  living. 

Not  long  ago  three  college  graduates  were  found 
Working  on  a  sheep  farm  in  Australia,  one  from  Ox¬ 
ford,  one  from  Cambridge,  and  the  other  from  a  German 
University,  —  college  men  tending  brutes  !  Trained  to 
lead  men,  they  drove  sheep.  The  owner  of  the  farm 
was  an  ignorant,  coarse  sheep-raiser.  He  knew  no¬ 
thing  of  books  or  theories,  but  he  knew  sheep.  His 
three  hired  graduates  could  speak  foreign  languages 
and  discuss  theories  of  political  economy  and  philos¬ 
ophy,  but  he  could  make  money.  He  could  talk  about 
nothing  but  sheep  and  farm ;  but  he  had  made  a  for¬ 
tune,  while  the  college  men  could  scarcely  get  a  living. 
Even  the  University  could  not  supply  common  sense. 
It  was  “  culture  against  ignorance ;  the  college  against 
the  ranch ;  and  the  ranch  beat  every  time.” 

Do  not  expect  too  much  from  books.  Bacon  said 
that  studies  u  teach  not  their  own  use,  but  that  there  is 
a  practical  wisdom  without  them,  won  by  observation.” 
The  use  of  books  must  be  found  outside  their  own  lids. 
It  was  said  of  a  great  French  scholar  :  “  He  was 
drowned  in  his  talents.”  Over-culture,  without  prac- 


192 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


tical  experience,  weakens  a  man,  and  unfits  him  foi 
real  life.  Book  education  alone  tends  to  make  a  man 
too  critical,  too  self-conscious,  timid,  distrustful  of  his 
abilities,  too  fine  for  the  mechanical  drudgery  of  prac¬ 
tical  life,  too  highly  polished,  and  too  finely  cultured 
for  every-day  use. 

The  culture  of  books  and  colleges  refines,  yet  it  is 
often  but  an  ethical  culture,  and  is  gained  at  the  cost  of 
vigor  and  rugged  strength.  Book  culture  alone  tends 
to  paralyze  the  practical  faculties.  The  bookworm  loses 
his  individuality ;  his  head  is  filled  with  theories  and  sat¬ 
urated  with  other  men’s  thoughts.  The  stamina  of  the 
vigorous  mind  he  brought  from  the  farm  has  evaporated 
in  college  ;  and  when  he  graduates,  he  is  astonished  to 
find  that  he  has  lost  the  power  to  grapple  with  men  and 
things,  and  is  therefore  outstripped  in  the  race  of  life  by 
the  boy  who  has  had  no  chance,  but  who,  in  the  fierce 
struggle  for  existence,  has  developed  hard  common 
sense  and  practical  wisdom.  The  college  graduate  often 
mistakes  his  crutches  for  strength.  He  inhabits  an 
ideal  realm  where  common  sense  rarely  dwells.  The 
world  cares  little  for  his  theories  or  his  encyclopaedic 
knowledge.  The  cry  of  the  age  is  for  practical  men. 
The  nineteenth  century  does  not  ask  you  what  you 
know  or  where  you  came  from,  but  what  can  you  do  ? 

“  Men  have  ruled  well  who  could  not,  perhaps,  define 
a  commonwealth,”  says  Sir  Thomas  Browne  ;  “  and  they 
who  understand  not  the  globe  of  the  earth  command  a 
greater  part  of  it.” 

“  We  have  been  among  you  several  weeks,”  said  Co¬ 
lumbus  to  the  Indian  chiefs  ;  “  and,  although  at  first  you 
treated  us  like  friends,  you  are  now  jealous  of  us  and 
are  trying  to  drive  us  away.  You  brought  us  food  in 
plenty  every  morning,  but  now  you  bring  very  little  and 
the  amount  is  less  with  each  succeeding  day.  The 
Great  Spirit  is  angry  with  you  for  not  doing  as  you 
agreed  in  bringing  us  provisions.  To  show  his  anger  he 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE.  193 

will  cause  the  sun  to  be  in  darkness.”  He  knew  that 
there  was  to  be  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  and  told  the  day 
and  hour  it  would  occur,  but  the  Indians  did  not  believe 
him,  and  continued  to  reduce  the  supply  of  food. 

On  the  appointed  day  the  sun  rose  without  a  cloud, 
and  the  Indians  shook  their  heads,  beginning  to  show 
signs  of  open  hostility  as  the  hours  passed  without  a 
shadow  on  the  face  of  the  sun.  But  at  length  a  dark 
spot  was  seen  on  one  margin ;  and,  as  it  grew  larger,  the 
natives  grew  frantic  and  fell  prostrate  before  Columbus 
to  entreat  for  help.  He  retired  to  his  tent,  promising  to 
save  them,  if  possible.  About  the  time  for  the  eclipse 
to  pass  away,  he  came  out  and  said  that  the  Great  Spirit 
had  pardoned  them,  and  would  soon  drive  away  the 
monster  from  the  sun  ;  but  they  must  never  offend 
him  again.  They  readily  promised,  and  when  the  sun 
had  passed  out  of  the  shadow  they  leaped,  and  danced, 
and  sang  for  joy.  Thereafter  the  Spaniards  had  all  the 
provisions  they  needed. 

“ Common  sense/'  said  Wendell  Phillips,  “bows  to 
the  inevitable  and  makes  use  of  it." 

The  foundations  of  English  liberty  were  laid  by  men 
who  could  not  write  their  names.  “Talent  is  some¬ 
thing,  but  tact  is  everything.  It  is  not  a  sixth  sense, 
but  it  is  like  the  life  of  all  the  five.  It  is  the  open  eye, 
the  quick  ear,  the  judging  taste,  the  keen  smell,  and 
lively  touch ;  it  is  the  interpreter  of  all  riddles,  the  sur- 
mounter  of  all  difficulties,  the  remover  of  all  obstacles." 

When  Caesar  stumbled  in  landing  on  the  beach  of 
Britain,  he  instantly  grasped  a  handful  of  sand  and 
held  it  aloft  as  a  signal  of  triumph,  hiding  forever  from 
his  followers  the  ill  omen  of  his  threatened  fall. 

Goethe,  speaking  of  some  comparisons  that  had 
been  instituted  between  himself  and  Shakespeare,  said : 

“  Shakespeare  always  hits  the  right  nail  on  the  head  at 
once ;  but  I  have  to  stop  and  think  which  is  the  right 
nail,  before  I  hit." 


194 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


It  has  been  said  that  a  few  pebbles  from  a  brook,  in 
the  sling  of  a  David,  who  knows  how  to  send  them  to 
the  mark,  are  more  effective  than  a  Goliath’s  spear  and 
a  Goliath’s  strength  with  a  Goliath’s  clumsiness. 

“  Get  ready  for  the  redskins !  ”  shouted  an  excited 
man  as  he  galloped  up  to  the  log-cabin  of  the  Moore 
family  in  Ohio  many  years  ago ;  “  and  give  me  a  fresh 
horse  as  soon  as  you  can.  They  killed  a  family  down 
the  river  last  night,  and  nobody  knows  where  they  ’il 
turn  up  next !  ” 

“  What  shall  we  do  ?  ”  asked  Mrs.  Moore,  with  a  pale 
face.  “  My  husband  went  away  yesterday  to  buy  our 
winter  supplies,  and  will  not  be  back  until  morning.” 

“  Husband  away  ?  Whew  !  that ’s  bad  !  Well,  shut 
up  as  tight  as  you  can.  Cover  up  your  fire,  and  don’t 
strike  a  light  to-night.”  Then  springing  upon  the 
horse  the  boys  had  brought,  he  galloped  away  to  warn 
other  settlers. 

Mrs.  Moore  carried  the  younger  children  to  the  loft 
of  the  cabin,  and  left  Obed  and  Joe  to  watch,  reluctantly 
yielding  the  post  of  danger  to  them  at  their  urgent  re¬ 
quest.  “  They  ’re  coming,  Joe  !  ”  whispered  Obed  early 
in  the  evening,  as  he  saw  several  shadows  moving  across 
the  fields.  “  Stand  by  that  window  with  the  axe,  while 
I  get  the  rifle  pointed  at  this  one.”  Opening  the  bullet- 
pouch,  he  took  out  a  ball,  but  nearly  fainted  as  he  found 
it  was  too  large  for  the  rifle.  His  father  had  taken  the 
wrong  pouch.  Obed  felt  around  to  see  if  there  were 
any  smaller  balls  in  the  cupboard,  and  almost  stumbled 
over  a  very  large  pumpkin,  one  of  the  two  which  he  and 
Joe  had  been  using  to  make  Jack-o’-lanterns  when  the 
messenger  alarmed  them.  Pulling  off  his  coat,  he  flung  , 
it  over  the  vegetable  lantern,  made  to  imitate  a  gigantic  j 
grinning  face,  with  open  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth,  and  will]  j 
a  live  coal  from  the  ashes  he  lighted  the  candle  inside 
“They ’ll  sound  the  war-whoop  in  a  minute,  if  I  give  j 
them  time,”  lie  whispered,  as  he  raised  the  covered  lan*  t 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE. 


195 


tern  to  the  window.  “  Now  for  it !  ”  he  added,  pulling 
the  coat  away.  An  unearthly  yell  greeted  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  the  grinning  monster,  and  the  Indians  fled  wildly 
to  the  woods.  “  Quick,  Joe  !  Light  up  the  other  one  ! 
Don’t  you  see  that ’s  what  scar’t  ’em  so  ?  ”  demanded 
Obed ;  and  at  the  appearance  of  the  second  fiery  face 
the  savages  gave  a  final  yell  and  vanished  in  the  forest. 
Mr.  Moore  and  daylight  came  together,  but  the  Indians 
did  not  return. 

Thurlow  Weed  earned  his  first  shilling  by  carrying  a 
trunk  on  his  back  from  a  sloop  in  New  York  harbor  to 
a  Broad  Street  hotel.  He  had  very  few  chances  such 
as  are  now  open  to  the  humblest  boy,  but  he  had  name¬ 
less  tact  and  intuition.  He  could  read  men  as  an  open 
book,  and  mould  them  to  his  will.  He  was  unselfish. 
By  three  presidents  whom  his  tact  and  shrewdness  had 
helped  to  elect,  he  was  offered  the  English  mission,  and 
scores  of  other  important  positions,  but  he  invariably 
declined. 

Lincoln  selected  Weed  to  attempt  the  reconciliation 
of  the  New  York  “  Herald,”  which  had  a  large  circulation 
in  Europe,  and  was  creating  a  dangerous  public  senti¬ 
ment  abroad  and  at  home  by  its  articles  in  sympathy 
with  the  Confederacy.  Though  Weed  and  Bennett  had 
not  spoken  to  each  other  before  for  thirty  years,  the  very 
next  day  after  their  interview  the  “ Herald”  became  a 
strong  Union  paper.  Weed  was  then  sent  to  Europe  to 
counteract  the  pernicious  influence  of  secession  agents. 
The  emperor  of  France  favored  the  South.  He  was  very 
indignant  because  Charleston  harbor  had  been  blockaded, 
thus  shutting  off  French  manufacturers  from  large  sup¬ 
plies  of  cotton.  But  the  rare  tact  of  Weed  modified 
the  emperor’s  views,  and  induced  him  to  change  to 
friendliness  the  tone  of  a  hostile  speech  prepared  for 
delivery  to  the  National  Assembly.  England  was  work¬ 
ing  night  and  day  preparing  for  war  when  Weed  arrived 
upon  the  scene,  and  soon  changed  largely  the  current  of 


/ 


196  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

public  sentiment.  On  his  return  to  America  the  city 
of  New  York  extended  public  thanks  to  him  for  his 
inestimable  services.  He  was  equally  successful  in 
business,  and  acquired  a  fortune  of  a  million  dollars. 

“  Tell  me  the  breadth  of  this  stream/’  said  Napoleon 
to  his  chief  engineer,  as  they  came  to  a  bridgeless  river 
which  the  army  must  cross.  “  Sire,  I  cannot.  My  scien  ¬ 
tific  instruments  are  with  the  army,  and  we  are  ten 
miles  ahead  of  it.” 

“  Measure  the  width  of  this  stream  instantly.”  — 
“  Sire,  be  reasonable  !  ”  —  “  Ascertain  at  once  the  width 
of  this  river,  or  you  shall  be  deposed.” 

The  engineer  drew  the  cap-piece  of  his  helmet  down 
until  the  edge  seemed  just  in  line  between  his  eye  and 
the  opposite  bank ;  then,  holding  himself  carefully  erect, 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  noticed  where  the  edge  seemed 
to  touch  the  bank  on  which  he  stood,  which  was  on  the 
same  level  as  the  other.  He  paced  the  distance  to  the 
point  last  noted,  and  said:  “This  is  the  approximate 
width  of  the  stream.”  He  was  promoted. 

“Mr.  Webster,”  said  the  mayor  of  a  Western  city, 
when  it  was  learned  that  the  great  statesman,  although 
weary  with  travel,  would  be  delayed  for  an  hour  by  a 
failure  to  make  close  connections,  “  allow  me  to  intro¬ 
duce  you  to  Mr.  James,  one  of  our  most  distinguished 
citizens.”  “How  do  you  do,  Mr.  James?”  asked 
Webster  mechanically,  as  he  glanced  at  a  thousand 
people  waiting  to  take  his  hand.  “The  truth  is,  Mr. 
Webster,”  replied  Mr.  James  in  a  most  lugubrious  tone, 
“  I  am  not  very  well.”  “  I  hope  nothing  serious  is 
the  matter,”  thundered  the  godlike  Daniel,  in  a  tone  of 
anxious  concern.  “Well,  I  don’t  know  that,  Mr.  Web¬ 
ster.  I  think  it ’s  rheumatiz,  but  my  wife  ”  —  “  Mr. 

Webster,  this  is  Mr.  Smith,”  broke  in  the  mayor, 
leaving  poor  Mr.  James  to  enjoy  his  bad  health  in  the 
pitiless  solitude  of  a  crowd.  His  total  want  of  tact 
had  made  him  ridiculous. 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE. 


197 

“  Address  yourself  to  the  jury,  sir,”  said  a  judge  to 
a  witness  who  insisted  upon  imparting  his  testimony  in 
a  confidential  tone  to  the  court  direct.  The  man  did 
not  understand  and  continued  as  before.  “  Speak  to  the 
jury,  sir,  the  men  sitting  behind  you  on  the  raised 
benches.”  Turning,  the  witness  bowed  low  in  awkward 
suavity,  and  said,  “  Good-morning,  gentlemen.” 

“  If  I  send  a  man  to  examine  a  horse  for  me,  I  expect 
him  to  give  me  his  points,  not  how  many  hairs  he  has  in 
his  tail,”  said  Lincoln,  when  a  pile  of  papers  was  handed 
him  containing  the  report  of  a  Congressional  committee 
appointed  to  examine  a  new  gun.  “  I  should  want  a  new 
lease  of  life,”  said  he,  “  to  read  all  this.” 

“  What  are  these  ?  ”  asked  Napoleon,  pointing  to 
twelve  silver  statues  in  a  cathedral.  “  The  twelve 
Apostles,”  was  the  reply.  “Take  them  down,”  said 
Napoleon,  “  melt  them,  coin  them  into  money,  and  let 
them  go  about  doing  good,  as  their  Master  did.” 

“  I  don’t  think  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon  show  very 
great  wisdom,”  said  a  student  at  Brown  University  ; 
“  I  could  make  as  good  ones  myself.”  “  Very  well,”  re¬ 
plied  President  Wayland,  “bring  in  two  to-morrow 
morning.”  He  did  not  bring  them. 

“Jim  Lowell  writes  books,  and  has  been  in  England 
a  spell,”  said  an  Adirondack  guide,  “but  he’s  an 
ign’rant  feller,  for  when  we  were  making  first-rate 
time  down  stream  in  the  current,  he  didn’t  know 
any  better  than  to  want  me  to  steer  the  canoe  to  the 
other  side  of  the  stream,  just  to  get  in  the  shade  of  the 
bank  where  we  did  n’t  get  ahead  at  all.  Now  I  call  a 
man  that  don’t  know  enough  to  keep  in  the  current  a 
blamed  ignoramus.” 

“  Will  you  lecture  for  us  for  fame  ?  ”  was  the  telegram 
young  Henry  Ward  Beecher  received  from  a  Young 
Men’s  Christian  Association  in  the  Wesk.  “Yes,  E.  A. 
M.  E.  Fifty  and  my  expenses,”  was  the  answer  the 
shrewd  young  preacher  sent  back. 


198 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Montaigne  tells  of  a  monarch  who,  on  the  sudden 
death  of  an  only  child,  showed  his  resentment  against 
Providence  by  abolishing  the  Christian  religion  through¬ 
out  his  dominions  for  a  fortnight. 

The  triumphs  of  tact,  or  common  sense,  over  talent 
and  genius,  are  seen  everywhere.  Walpole  was  an  ig¬ 
norant  man,  but  he  held  the  sceptre  over  England  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  Charlemagne  could  hardly  write 
his  name  so  that  it  could  be  .deciphered ;  but  these 
giants  knew  men  and  things,  and  possessed  that  practi¬ 
cal  wisdom  and  tact  which  have  ever  moved  the  world. 

Tact,  like  Alexander,  cuts  the  knots  it  cannot  untie, 
and  leads  its  forces  to  glorious  victory.  A  practical 
man  not  only  sees,  but  seizes  the  opportunity.  There 
is  a  certain  getting-on  quality  difficult  to  describe,  but 
which  is  the  great  winner  of  the  prizes  of  life.  Napo¬ 
leon  could  do  anything  in  the  art  of  war  with  his  own 
hands,  even  to  the  making  of  gunpowder.  Paul  was  all 
things  to  all  men,-  that  he  might  save  some.  The  palm 
is  among  the  hardest  and  least  yielding  of  all  woods, 
yet  rather  than  be  deprived  of  the  rays  of  the  life-giving 
sun  in  the  dense  forests  of  South  America,  it  is  said  to 
turn  into  a  creeper,  and  climb  the  nearest  trunk  to  the 
light. 

He  who  would  push  to  the  front  in  this  competitive 
age  must  be  in  touch  with  the  great  bustling,  busy 
world.  He  must  keep  his  mind  parallel  with  the  nature 
of  things.  He  must  not  be  one  of  those  who  explore 
the  illimitable  and  grasp  the  infinite,  but  never  pay  cash. 

In  the  patent-office  at  W asliington  may  be  seen  many 
thousands  of  ingenious  mechanical  devices,  not  one 
in  a  hundred  of  which  has  ever  been  put  to  any  practi¬ 
cal  use,  and  never  will  be  seen  outside  the  rooms  where 
they  are  stored  for  exhibition.  Most  of  these  are  the 
results  of  days,  months,  and  even  years  of  labor  on  the 
part  of  men  whose  inventive  faculties  ought  to  have  en¬ 
abled  them  to  render  valuable  service  to  their  fellow 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE. 


199 


men,  feat  which  unfortunately,  not  being  balanced  by 
the  necessary  qualities  to  render  them  of  practical  value, 
have  been  squandered  in  the  invention  and  construction 
of  machines  for  doing  what  nobody  ever  cares  to  have 
done,  or  what  can  be  accomplished  by  much  simpler  and 
better  means. 

There  are  many  engineers  who  know  vastly  more  than 
George  Stephenson  did,  but  he  knew  how  to  apply  his 
knowledge. 

A  farmer  who  could  not  get  a  living  sold  one  half  of 
his  farm  to  a  young  man  who  made  enough  money  on 
the  half  to  pay  for  it  and  buy  the  rest.  “  You  have  not 
tact/’  was  his  reply,  when  the  old  man  asked  how  one 
could  succeed  so  well  where  the  other  had  failed. 

According  to  an  old  custom  a  Cape  Cod  minister  was 
called  upon  in  April  to  make  a  prayer  over  a  piece  of 
land.  “No,”  said  he,  when  shown  the  land,  “this  does 
not  need  a  prayer ;  it  needs  manure.” 

To  see  a  man  as  he  is  you  must  turn  him  round  and 
round  until  you  get  him  at  the  right  angle.  Place  him 
in  a  good  light  as  you  would  a  picture.  The  excellences 
and  defects  will  appear  if  you  get  the  right  angle  and  a 
favorable  light.  How  our  old  schoolmates  have  changed 
places  in  the  ranking  of  actual  life  !  The  boy  who  led 
his  class  and  was  the  envy  of  all  has  been  distanced  by 
the  poor  dunce  who  was  called  slow  and  stupid,  but  who 
had  a  sort  of  dull  energy  in  him  which  enabled  him  to 
get  on  in  the  world.  The  class  leader  had  only  a  the¬ 
oretical  knowledge,  and  could  not  cope  with  the  stern 
realities  of  the  age.  Even  genius,  however  rapid  its 
flight,  must  not  omit  a  single  essential  detail,  and  must 
be  willing  to  work  like  a  horse. 

Shakespeare  had  marvelous  tact;  he  worked  every¬ 
thing  into  his  plays.  He  ground  up  the  king  and  his 
vassal,  the  fool  and  the  fop,  the  prince  and  the  peasant, 
the  black  and  the  white,  the  pure  and  the  impure,  the 
simple  and  the  profound,  passions  and  characters,  honor 


200 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


and  dishonor,  —  everything  within  the  sweep  of  his 
vision  he  ground  up  into  paint  and  spread  it  upon  his 
mighty  canvas. 

Some  people  show  want  of  tact  in  resenting  every 
slight  or  petty  insult,  however  unworthy  their  notice. 
Others  make  Don  Quixote’s  mistake  of  fighting  a  wind¬ 
mill  by  engaging  in  controversies  with  public  speakers 
and  editors,  who  are  sure  to  have  the  advantage  of  the 
final  word.  One  of  the  greatest  elements  of  strength  in 
the  character  of  Washington  was  found  in  his  forbear¬ 
ance  when  unjustly  attacked  or  ridiculed. 

Artemus  Ward  touches  this  bubble  with  a  pretty 
sharp-pointed  pen. 

“  It  was  in  a  surtin  town  in  Yirginny,  the  Muther  of 
Presidents  and  things,  that  I  was  shaimfully  aboozed 
by  a  editer  in  human  form.  He  set  my  Show  up  steep, 
and  kalled  me  the  urbane  and  gentlemunly  manager, 
but  when  I,  fur  the  purpuss  of  showin  fair  play  all 
round,  went  to  anuther  offiss  to  get  my  handbills  printed, 
what  duz  this  pussillanermus  editer  do  but  change  his 
toon  and  abooze  me  like  a  injun.  He  sed  my  wax-wurks 
was  a  humbug,  and  called  me  a  horey-heded  itinerent 
vagabone.  I  thort  at  fust  Ide  pollish  him  orf  ar-lar 
Beneki  Boy,  but  on  reflectin  that  he  cood  pollish  me 
much  wuss  in  his  paper,  I  giv  it  up ;  and  I  wood  here 
take  occashun  to  advise  people  when  they  run  agin,  as 
they  sumtimes  will,  these  miserble  papers,  to  not  pay  no 
'  attenshun  to  um.  Abuv  all,  don’t  assault  a  editer  of  this 
kind.  It  only  gives  him  a  notorosity,  which  is  jist  what 
he  wants,  and  don’t  do  you  no  more  good  than  it  would 
to  jump  into  enny  other  mud-puddle.  Editers  are  gen¬ 
erally  fine  men,  but  there  must  be  black  sheep  in  every 
flock.” 

John  Jacob  Astor  had  practical  talent  in  a  remark¬ 
able  degree.  During  a  storm  at  sea,  on  his  voyage  to 
America,  the  other  passengers  ran  about  the  deck  in  de¬ 
spair,  expecting  every  minute  to  go  down  5  but  young 


TACT  OR  COMMON  SENSE. 


201 


Astor  went  below  and  coolly  put  on  bis  best  suit  of 
clothes,  saying  that  if  the  ship  should  founder  and  he 
should  happen  to  be  rescued,  he  would  at  least  save  his 
best  suit  of  clothes. 

“  Their  trading  talent  is  bringing  the  Jews  to  the 
front  in  America  as  well  as  in  Europe,”  said  a  traveler 
to  one  of  that  race  ;  “  and  it  has  gained  for  them  an  as¬ 
cendancy,  at  least  in  certain  branches  of  trade,  from 
which  nothing  will  ever  displace  them.” 

“  Dey  #re  coming  to  de  vront,  most  zairtainly,”  replied 
his  companion ;  “  but  vy  do  you  slrpeak  of  deir  drading 
dalent  all  de  time  ?  ” 

“  But  don’t  you  regard  it  as  a  talent  ?  ” 

“A  dalent  ?  No  !  It  is  chenius.  I  vill  dell  you  what 
is  de  difference,  in  drade,  between  dalent  and  chenius. 
Yen  one  goes  into  a  man’s  slitore  and  manaches  to  sell 
him  vot  he  vonts,  dat  is  dalent ;  but  ven  annoder  man 
goes  into  dat  man’s  shtore  and  sells  him  vot  he  don’t 
vont,  dat  is  chenius ;  and  dat  is  de  chenius  vot  my  race 
has  got.” 

Tact  is  a  national  trait.  The  Chinese  understood  the 
art  of  printing,  and  possessed  the  magnetic  needle  and 
gunpowder,  centuries  in  advance  of  other  nations,  but 
they  did  not  have  the  practical  talent  to  use  them  to 
any  great  advantage.  But  the  English  and  other  Euro¬ 
pean  nations  changed  the  face  of  the  civilized  world  with 
them. 

Tact  is  a  child  of  necessity.  It  is  not  found  in  people 
who  live  under  a  tropical  sun,  where  there  is  little  need 
of  clothing,  and  where  food  is  found  ready  prepared  in 
the  date,  cocoanut,  and  banana.  It  has  its  highest  de¬ 
velopment  where  man  has  to  struggle  hardest  for  exist* 
ence. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


SELF-RESPECT  AND  SELF-CONFIDENCE. 

Be  a  friend  to  yersel,  and  ithers  will.  —  Scotch  Proverb. 

A  nod  from  a  lord  is  a  breakfast  for  a  fool.  — Franklin. 

The  king  is  the  man  who  can.  —  Carlyle. 

The  reverence  of  man’s  self  is,  next  to  religion,  the  chiefest  bridle  of  al 
vices.  —  Bacon. 

Self-approbation,  when  founded  in  truth  and  a  good  conscience,  is  i 
source  of  some  of  the  purest  joys  known  to  man.  —  C.  Simmons. 

Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control,  these  three  alone  lead  lift 
to  sovereign  power.  —  Tennyson. 

Self-respect,  —  that  corner-stone  of  all  virtue.  —  John  Herschel. 

Above  all  things,  reverence  yourself.  — Pythagoras. 

No  one  can  disgrace  us  but  ourselves. — J.  G.  Holland. 

Nothing  can  work  me  damage,  except  myself ;  the  harm  that  I  sustain 
I  carry  about  with  me,  and  never  am  a  real  sufferer  but  by  my  own  faults. 
—  St.  Bernard. 

Self-distrust  is  the  cause  of  most  of  our  failures.  In  the  assurance  of 
strength  there  is  strength,  and  they  are  the  weakest,  however  strong,  whc 
have  no  faith  in  themselves  or  their  powers.  —  Bovee. 

The  pious  and  just  honoring  of  ourselves  may  be  thought  the  fountain¬ 
head  from  whence  every  laudable  and  worthy  enterprise  issues  forth.  — 
Milton. 

A  poor  Scotch  weaver  used  to  pray  daily  that  he 
might  have  a  good  opinion  of  himself.  Why  not  ?  Can 
I  ask  another  to  think  well  of  me  when  I  do  not  set  the 
example  ?  The  Chinese  say  it  never  pays  to  respect  a 
man  who  does  not  respect  himself.  If  the  world  sees 
that  I  do  not  honor  myself,  it  has  a  right  to  reject  me 
as  an  impostor,  because  I  claim  to  be  worthy  of  the 
good  opinion  of  others  when  I  have  not  my  own.  Self 
respect  is  based  upon  the  same  principles  as  respect  for 
others.  The  scales  of  justice  hang  in  every  heart,  and 
even  the  murderer  respects  the  judge  who  condemns 
him ;  for  the  still  small  voice  within  says,  “  That  is 
right.”  Justice  never  looks  to  see  who  is  in  the  scale* 


SELF-RESPECT  AND  SELF-CONFIDENCE .  203 


before  she  strikes  the  balance.  King  or  beggar,  it  is  all 
the  same. 

“  You  may  deceive  all  the  people  some  of  the  time,” 
said  Lincoln,  “  some  of  the  people  all  the  time,  but  not 
all  the  people  all  the  time.”  We  cannot  deceive  our. 
selves  any  of  the  time,  and  the  only  way  to  enjoy  ou* 
own  respect  is  to  deserve  it.  What  would  you  think  of 
a  man  who  would  neglect  himself,  and  treat  his  shado  w 
with  the  greatest  respect  ? 

The  world  has  a  right  to  look  to  me  for  my  own  rating. 
We  stamp  our  own  value  upon  ourselves  and  cannot  ex¬ 
pect  to  pass  for  more.  When  you  are  introduced  into 
society,  people  look  into  your  face  and  eye  to  see  what 
estimate  you  place  upon  yourself.  If  they  see  a  low 
mark,  why  should  they  trouble  themselves  to  investigate 
to  see  if  you  have  not  rated  yourself  too  low  ?  They 
know  you  have  lived  with  yourself  a  good  while  and 
ought  to  know  your  own  value  better  than  they. 

“  Good  God,  that  I  should  have  intrusted  the  fate  of 
the  country  and  of  the  administration  to  such  hands  !  ” 
exclaimed  Pitt  to  Lord  Temple,  after  listening  in  disgust 
to  the  egotistical  boasting  of  General  Wolfe,  the  day 
before  his  embarkation  for  Canada.  The  young  soldier 
had  drawn  his  sword,  rapped  upon  the  table  with  it, 
flourished  it  around  the  room,  and  told  of  the  great 
deeds  he  should  perform. 

Little  did  the  Prime  Minister  dream  that  this  ego¬ 
tistical  young  man  would  rise  from  his  bed  when  sick  ' 
with  a  fever,  and  lead  his  troops  to  glorious  victory 
upon  the  Heights  of  Abraham.  This  apparent  egotism 
was  but  a  prophecy  of  his  ability  to  achieve.  t 


**  One  self-approving  hour  whole  years  outweighs 
Of  stupid  starers  and  of  loud  huzzas ; 

And  more  true  joy  Marcellus  exiled  feels 
Than  Cajsar  with  a  senate  at  his  heels. ” 

~;i  Where  is  now  your  fortress  ?  ”  asked  his  captors 


204 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


derisively  of  Stephen  of  Colonna.  “  Here,”  was  the 
bold  reply,  as  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

“  Ah  !  John  Hunter,  still  hard  at  work  !  ”  exclaimed 
a  physician  on  finding  the  old  anatomist  at  the  dissect* 
ing-table.  “Yes,  doctor,  and  you’ll  find  it  difficult  to 
meet  with  another  John  Hunter  when  I  am  gone.” 

“  Heaven  takes  a  hundred  years  to  form  a  great  genius 
for  the  regeneration  of  an  empire,  and  afterwards  rests 
a  hundred  years,”  said  Kaunitz,  who  had  administered 
tire  affairs  of  his  country  with  great  success  for  half  a 
century.  “This  makes  me  tremble  for  the  Austrian 
monarchy  after  my  death  !  ” 

“My  Lord,”  said  William  Pitt  in  1757  to  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire,  “  I  am  sure  that  I  can  save  this  country, 
and  that  nobody  else  can.”  He  did  save  it. 

“  Is  n’t  it  beautiful  that  I  can  sing  so  ?  ”  asked  Jenny 
Lind,  naively,  of  a  friend. 

Louis  the  Fourteenth  said  to  his  clergyman,  “Ah! 
it ’s  all  very  true ;  I  am  a  sinner,  no  doubt,  since  you 
say  so ;  but  le  bon  Dieu  will  think  twice  before  he  casts 
out  such  a  great  prince  as  I.” 

“Well-matured  and  well-disciplined  talent  is  always 
sure  of  a  market,”  said  Washington  Irving;  “but  it 
must  not  cower  at  home  and  expect  to  be  sought  for. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  cant,  too,  about  the  success  of 
forward  and  impudent  men,  while  men  of  retiring  worth 
are  passed  over  with  neglect.  But  it  usually  happens 
that  those  forward  men  have  that  valuable  quality  of 
promptness  and  activity,  without  which  worth  is  a  mere 
inoperative  property.  A  barking  dog  is  often  more  use¬ 
ful  than  a  sleeping  lion.” 

John  C.  Fremont  closed  in  almost  forgotten  obscurity 
his  career  as  a  man  whose  scientific  attainment  gave 
him  the  seat  left  vacant  by  the  death  of  Humboldt  in 
European  academies,  whose  wonderful  enterprise  gave 
California  to  the  Union,  and  whose  position  was  once 
among  the  foremost  in  the  political  world.  “  He  hag 


SELF-RESPECT  AND  SELF-CONFIDENCE.  205 


been  ignored,”  said  an  opponent,  “  simply  because  he 
is  utterly  lacking  in  self-assertion.  He  has  a  positive 
talent  for  effacing  himself.” 

“Why,  sir,”  said  John  C.  Calhoun  in  Yale  College 
when  a  fellow  student  ridiculed  his  intense  application 
to  study  ;  “  I  am  forced  to  make  the  most  of  my  time, 
that  I  may  acquit  myself  creditably  when  in  Congress/' 
A  laugh  greeted  this  speech,  when  he  exclaimed, 
“  Do  you  doubt  it  ?  I  assure  you  if  I  were  not  con¬ 
vinced  of  my  ability  to  reach  the  national  capital  as 
a  representative  within  the  next  three  years,  I  would 
leave  college  this  very  day !  ” 

“  What  does  Grattan  say  of  himself  ?  ”  said  Curran, 
repeating  the  question  of  the  egotistical  Lord  Erskine  j 
“  nothing.  Grattan  speak  of  himself !  Why,  sir, 
Grattan  is  a  great  man !  Torture,  sir,  could  not  wring 
a  syllable  of  self-praise  from  Grattan ;  a  team  of  six 
horses  could  not  drag  an  opinion  of  himself  out  of  him ! 
Like  all  great  men,  he  knows  the  strength  of  his  reputa¬ 
tion,  and  will  never  condescend  to  proclaim  its  march 
like  the  trumpeter  of  a  puppet  show.  Sir,  he  stands  on 
a  national  altar,  and  it  is  the  business  of  us  inferior  men 
to  keep  up  the  fire  and  incense.  You  will  never  see 
Grattan  stooping  to  do  either  the  one  or  the  other.” 

What  seems  to  us  disagreeable  egotism  in  others  is 
often  but  a  strong  expression  of  confidence  in  their  abil¬ 
ity  to  attain.  Great  men  have  usually  had  great  confi¬ 
dence  in  themselves.  Wordsworth  felt  sure  of  his  place 
in  history,  and  never  hesitated  to  say  so.  Dante  pre¬ 
dicted  his  own  fame.  Kepler  said  it  did  not  matter 
whether  his  contemporaries  read  his  books  or  not.  “  I 
may  well  wait  a  century  for  a  reader  since  God  has 
waited  6000  years  for  an  observer  like  myself.” 
“  Fear  not,”  said  Julius  Caesar  to  his  pilot  frightened  in 
a  storm  ;  “  thou  bearest  Caesar  and  his  good  fortunes.” 

Egotism,  so  common  in  men  of  rank,  may  be  a  neces¬ 
sity.  Nature  gives  man  large  hope  lest  he  falter  before 


206 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


reaching  the  high  mark  she  sets  for  him.  So  she  has 
overloaded  his  egotism,  often  beyond  the  pleasing  point, 
to  make  sure  that  he  will  persist  in  pushing  his  way 
upward.  Self-confidence  indicates  reserve  power.  It 
may  show  that  one  feels  equal  to  the  occasion. 

Morally  considered,  it  is  usually  safe  to  trust  those 
who  can  trust  themselves,  but  when  a  man  suspects  his 
own  integrity,  it  is  time  he  was  suspected  by  others. 
Moral  degradation  always  begins  at  home. 

Did  not  Napoleon  I.,  when  he  was  a  poor  sub-lieuten¬ 
ant,  believe  that  within  him  lay  capacities  enough  to 
shake  a  world  ? 

In  this  busy  world,  men  have  no  time  to  hunt  about 
in  obscure  corners  for  retiring  merit.  They  prefer  to 
take  a  man  at  his  own  estimate  until  he  proves  himself 
unworthy.  The  world  admires  courage  and  manliness, 
and  despises  a  young  man  who  goes  about  “  with  an  air 
of  perpetual  apology  for  the  unpardonable  sin  of  being 
in  the  world.” 

“  If  a  man  possesses  the  consciousness  of  what  he  is,” 
said  Schelling,  “  he  will  soon  also  learn  what  he  ought 
to  be  ;  let  him  have  a  theoretical  respect  for  himself, 
and  a  practical  will  soon  follow.”  A  person  under  the 
firm  persuasion  that  he  can  command  resources  virtu¬ 
ally  has  them.  u  Humility  is  the  part  of  wisdom,  and 
is  most  becoming  in  men,”  said  Kossuth ;  “  but  let  no 
one  discourage  self-reliance ;  it  is,  of  all  the  rest,  the 
greatest  quality  of  true  manliness.”  Froude  wrote : 
u  A  tree  must  be  rooted  in  the  soil  before  it  can  bear 
flowers  or  fruit.  A  man  must  learn  to  stand  upright 
upon  his  own  feet,  to  respect  himself,  to  be  independent 
of  charity  or  accident.  It  is  on  this  basis  only  that  any 
superstructure  of  intellectual  cultivation  worth  having 
can  possibly  be  built.” 

A  youth  should  have  that  self-respect  which  lifts  him 
above  meanness,  and  makes  him  independent  of  slights 
and  snubs. 


SELF-RESPECT  AND  SELF-CONFIDENCE .  207 

Never  chase  a  lie.  Let  it  alone,  and  it  will  run  itself 
to  death.  “  I  can  work  out  a  good  character  much  faster 
than  any  one  can  lie  me  out  of  it,”  said  Lyman  Beecher. 

“  There  is  a  kind  of  elevation  which  does  not  depend 
on  fortune,”  says  La  Rochefoucauld.  “  It  is  a  certain 
air  which  distinguishes  us,  and  seems  to  destine  us  for 
great  things  ;  it  is  a  price  which  we  imperceptibly  set 
.  on  ourselves.  By  this  quality  we  usurp  the  deference 
of  other  men,  and  it  puts  us,  in  general,  more  above 
them  than  birth,  dignity,  or  even  merit  itself.” 

“It  is  only  shallow-minded  pretenders,”  said  Webster, 
“who  make  either  distinguished  origin  a  matter  of 
personal  merit,  or  obscure  origin  a  matter  of  personal 
reproach.  A  man  who  is  not  ashamed  of  himself  need 
not  be  ashamed  of  his  early  condition.  It  did  happen 
to  me  to  be  born  in  a  log-cabin,  raised  amid  the  snow¬ 
drifts  of  New  Hampshire,  at  a  period  so  early  that, 
when  the  smoke  first  rose  from  its  rude  chimney  and 
curled  over  the  frozen  hills,  there  was  no  similar  evi¬ 
dence  of  white  man’s  habitation  between  it  and  the 
settlements  on  the  rivers  of  Canada. 

“  Its  remains  still  exist ;  I  make  it  an  annual  visit.  1 
carry  my  children  to  it,  and  teach  them  the  hardships 
endured  by  the  generations  before  them.  I  love  to 
dwell  on  the  tender  recollections,  the  kindred  ties,  the 
early  affections,  and  the  narrations  and  incidents  which 
mingle  with  all  I  know  of  this  primitive  family  abode. 
I  weep  to  think  that  none  who  then  inhabited  it  are 
now  among  the  living ;  and  if  ever  I  fail  in  affectionate 
veneration  for  him  who  raised  it,  and  defended  it  against 
savage  violence  and  destruction,  cherished  all  domestic 
comforts  beneath  its  roof,  and  through  the  fire  and 
blood  of  seven  years’  revolutionary  war  shrunk  from  no 
toil,  no  sacrifice  to  serve  his  country,  and  to  raise  his 
children  to  a  condition  better  than  his  own,  may  my 
name  and  the  name  of  my  posterity  be  blotted  from  the 
memory  of  mankind.’ 


208 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“I  have  studied  all  my  law  books,”  said  Curran, 
pleading,  “  and  cannot  find  a  single  case  where  the 
principle  contended  for  by  the  opposing  counsel  is  es¬ 
tablished.” 

“I  suspect,  sir,”  interrupted  Judge  Robinson,  who 
owed  his  position  to  his  authorship  of  several  poorly 
written,  but  sycophantic  and  scurrilous  pamphlets,  “  I 
suspect  that  your  law  library  is  rather  contracted.” 

“  It  is  true,  my  lord,  that  I  am  poor,”  said  the  young 
lawyer  calmly,  looking  the  judge  steadily  in  the  face  ; 
et  and  the  circumstance  has  rather  curtailed  my  library. 
My  books  are  not  numerous,  but  they  are  select,  and  I 
hope  have  been  perused  with  proper  dispositions.  I  have 
prepared  myself  for  this  high  profession  rather  by  the 
study  of  a  few  good  books,  than  by  the  composition  of  a 
great  many  bad  ones.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  poverty, 
but  I  should  be  of  my  wealth,  could  I  stoop  to  acquire 
it  by  servility  and  corruption.  If  I  rise  not  to  rank,  I 
shall  at  least  be  honest.  And  should  I  ever  cease  to  be 
so,  many  an  example  shows  me  that  an  ill-acquired  ele¬ 
vation,  by  making  me  the  more  conspicuous,  would  only 
make  me  the  more  universally  and  the  more  notoriously 
contemptible.”  Judge  Robinson  never  again  sneered 
at  the  young  barrister. 

“  Self-reliance  is  a  grand  element  of  character,”  says 
Michael  Reynolds.  “  It  has  won  Olympic  crowns  and 
Isthmian  laurels  ;  it  confers  kinship  with  men  who  have 
vindicated  their  divine  right  to  be  held  in  the  world’s 
memory.” 

Self-confidence  and  self-respect  give  a  sense  of  power 
which  nothing  else  can  bestow. 

The  vreak,  the  leaning,  the  dependent,  the  vacillating, 
the  undecided,  — 

“  Know  not,  nor  ever  can,  the  generous  pride 
That  glows  in  him  who  on  himself  relies. 


SELF-RESPECT  AND  SELF-CONFIDENCE.  209 


His  joy  is  not  that  ho  has  got  the  crown 
But  that  the  power  to  win  the  crown  is  his.” 

This  above  all,  —  to  thine  own  self  be  true; 

And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 

Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

Shakespearu, 


%  1 


i  c  1 1 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


They  call  thee  rich,  I  call  thee  poor* 

Since,  if  thou  darest  not  use  thy  store, 

But  savest  it  only  for  thine  heirs, 

The  treasure  is  not  thine  but  theirs. 

COWPKR. 

When  life  is  ruined  for  the  sake  of  money’s  preciousness,  the  ruined  life 
cares  naught  for  the  money.  — Japanese  Proverb. 

“  Better  a  cheap  coffin  and  a  plain  funeral  after  a  useful,  unselfish  life, 
than  a  grand  mausoleum  after  a  loveless,  selfish  life.” 

Can  wealth  give  happiness  ?  Look  round  and  see  what  gay  distress,  what 
splendid  misery.  —  Young. 

Can  anything  be  so  elegant  as  to  have  few  wants  and  serve  them  one’s 
self  ?  —  Emerson. 

The  fewer  our  wants  the  nearer  we  resemble  the  gods.  —  Socrates. 

Be  noble  !  and  the  nobleness  that  lies 
In  other  men,  sleeping,  but  never  dead, 

Will  rise  in  majesty  to  meet  thine  own. 

Lowegl. 

“  And  who  is  king  to-day  ?  ”  Greuze,  the  ps  iter, 
would  ask  his  daughter  each  morning  during  the 
first  great  revolution  in  France.  Then  he  would  add : 
“  Homer  and  Raphael  will  live  longer  than  these  tem¬ 
porary  kings.” 

“  You  are  a  plebeian,”  said  a  patrician  to  Cicero.  “  I 
am  a  plebeian,”  replied  the  great  Roman  orator ;  “  the 
nobility  of  my  family  begins  with  me,  that  of  yours 
will  end  with  you.”  No  man  deserves  to  be  crowned 
with  honor  whose  life  is  a  failure,  and  he  who  lives 
only  to  eat  and  drink  and  accumulate  money  is  surely 
not  successful.  The  world  is  no  better  for  his  living  in 
it.  He  never  wiped  a  tear  from  a  sad  face,  never  kin¬ 
dled  a  fire  upon  a  frozen  hearth.  There  is  no  flesh  in 
his  heart  j  he  worships  no  god  but  gold. 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH .  211 

If  Adam  were  alive  to-day,  supposing  him  to  have 
lived  four  thousand  years  ago,  and  had  deposited  fifty 
dollars  in  the  bank  every  day  of  his  life,  without  inter¬ 
est,  he  would  have  less  money  than  Jay  Gould  had  at 
the  time  of  his  death.  Yet  Gould’s  life  was  not  a  suc¬ 
cess,  nor  should  his  career  be  quoted  to  young  men. 

“  What  is  the  best  thing  to  possess  ?  ”  asked  an 
ancient  philosopher  of  his  pupils.  One  answered, 
u  Nothing  is  better  than  a  good  eye,  ”  —  a  figurative  ex¬ 
pression  for  a  liberal  and  contented  disposition.  An¬ 
other  said,  “A  good  companion  is  the  best  thing  in  the 
world ;  ”  a  third  chose  a  good  neighbor  ;  and  a  fourth,  a 
wise  friend.  But  Eleazar  said  :  “  A  good  heart  is  better 
than  them  all.”  “True,”  said  the  master;  “thou  hast 
comprehended  in  two  words  all  that  the  rest  have  said, 
for  he  that  hath  a  good  heart  will  be  contented,  a  good 
companion,  a  good  neighbor,  and  will  easily  see  what  is 
fit  to  be  done  by  him.” 

Queen  Caroline  Matilda  of  Denmark  wrote  on  the 
window  of  her  prison,  with  her  diamond  ring :  “  Oh, 
keep  me  innocent ;  make  others  great.” 

“  Oh,  if  I  could  only  go  !  ”  thought  Pierre,  the  Prench 
boy,  as  he  saw  a  man  putting  up  a  great  bill  with  yel¬ 
low  letters,  announcing  that  Madame  Malibran  would 
sing  that  night.  But  there  was  no  bread  in  the  house 
and  he  had  not  tasted  food  all  day.  How  nice  a  sweet 
orange  would  seem  to  his  poor  sick  mother,  but  he  had 
not  a  penny  in  the  world.  From  a  little  box  he  took 
some  old,  stained  paper,  glanced  at  his  sleeping  mother, 
and  ran  out  into  the  streets  of  London. 

.  “  Who  did  you  say  is  waiting  for  me  ?  ”  asked  Mali¬ 
bran  of  her  servant;  “I  am  already  worn  out  with  com¬ 
pany.”  “  He  is  only  a  very  pretty  little  boy  with  yel¬ 
low  curls,  who  said  if  he  can  just  see  you  he  is  sure  you 
will  not  be  sorry,  and  he  will  not  keep  you  a  moment.” 
“Oh,  well,  let  him  come,”  smiled  the  great  singer;  “I 
can  never  refuse  children.” 


212 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  I  came  to  see  you  because  my  mother  is  very  sick,* 
began  Pierre,  “and  we  are  too  poor  to  get  food  and 
medicine.  I  thought,  perhaps,  that  if  you  would  sing 
my  little  song  at  some  of  your  grand  concerts,  maybe 
some  publisher  would  buy  it  for  a  small  sum,  and  so  I 
could  get  food  and  medicine  for  my  mother.”  “Did 
you  compose  it  ?  ”  asked  Malibran,  after  humming  the 
air,  “you,  a  child!”  looking  at  the  boy  attentively, 
“And  the  words,  too  ?  Would  you  like  to  come  to  my 
concert  ?  ”  “  Oh,  yes  !  but  I  could  n’t  leave  my  mother.” 
“I  will  send  somebody  to  take  care  of  your  mother  for 
the  evening,  and  here  is  a  crown  with  which  you  may 
go  and  get  food  and  medicine.  Here  is  also  one  of  my 
tickets.  Come  to-night ;  that  will  admit  you  to  a  seat 
near  me.” 

Pierre  bought  some  oranges  and  other  delicacies  for 
his  mother,  and  went  to  the  Concert  Hall  that  night. 
The  band  struck  up  a  plaintive  little  melody  and 
Madame  Malibran  poured  forth  the  touching  words. 
Pierre  clasped  his  hands  for  joy,  but  many  a  bright  eye 
in  that  vast  audience  grew  dim  with  tears.  The  next 
day  the  door  of  his  humble  home  opened,  and  Madame 
Malibran  laid  her  hand  on  his  yellow  curls,  as  she  said 
to  his  mother:  “Your  little  boy,  madame,  has  brought 
you  a  fortune.  I  was  offered  this  morning,  by  the  best 
publisher  in  London,  three  hundred  pounds  for  his  little 
song,  and  after  he  has  realized  a  certain  amount  from 
the  sale,  little  Pierre  here  is  to  share  the  profits.  Ma* 
dame,  thank  God  that  your  son  has  a  gift  from  heaven.” 

The  boy  fell  upon  his  knees  and  asked  God  to  bless 
the  kind  heart  that  had  felt  for  the  poor ;  and  when,  a 
few  years  later,  Malibran  sank  to  an  early  death,  it  was 
Pierre,  the  rich  composer,  who  smoothed  her  pillow  and 
cheered  her  last  hours. 

“What  property  has  he  left  behind  him?”  people 
ask  when  a  man  dies ;  but  the  angel  who  receives  him 
asks,  “  What  good  deeds  hast  thou  sent  before  thee  ?  ” 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH 


213 


“  P-ease,  sir,  buy  some  matches!”  said  a  little  boy, 
with  a  poor  thin  blue  face,  his  feet  bare  and  red,  and 
his  clothes  only  a  bundle  of  rags,  although  it  was  very 
cold  in  Edinburgh  that  day.  “No,  I  don’t  want  any,” 
said  the  gentleman.  “But  they’re  only  a  penny  a 
box,”  the  little  fellow  pleaded.  “Yes,  but  you  see  I 
don’t  want  a  box.”  «  Then  I  ’ll  gie  ye  two  boxes  for  a 
penny,”  the  boy  said  at  last. 

“And  so,  to  get  rid  of  him,”  says  the  gentleman  who 
tells  the  story  in  an  English  paper,  “  I  bought  a  box, 
but  then  I  found  I  had  no  change,  so  I  said,  ‘  I  ’ll  buy 
a  box  to-morrow.’ 

“  ‘  Oh,  do  buy  them  to-nicht,’  the  boy  pleaded  again  ; 
‘I’ll  rin  and  get  ye  the  change;  for  I’m  very  hun¬ 
gry.’  So  I  gave  him  the  shilling,  and  he  started 
away.  I  waited  for  the  boy,  but  no  boy  came.  Then  I 
thought  I  had  lost  my  shilling;  but  still  there  was 
that  in  the  boy’s  face  I  trusted,  and  I  did  not  like  to 
think  badly  of  him. 

“Late  in  the  evening  a  servant  came  and  said  a  little 
boy  wanted  to  see  me.  When  the  child  was  brought  in, 
I  found  it  was  a  smaller  brother  of’the  boy  who  got  the 
shilling,  but,  if  possible,  still  more  ragged  and  thin  and 
poor.  He  stood  a  moment  diving  into  his  rags,  as  if  he 
were  seeking  something,  and  then  said,  ‘  Are  you  the 
gentleman  that  bought  matches  frae  Sandie  ?  ’  ‘  Yes  !  ’ 

‘Weel,  then,  here’s  fourpence  oot  o’  yer  shillin’. 
Sandie  canna  coom.  He’s  no  weel.  A  cart  ran  over 
him  and  knocked  him  doon;  and  he  lost  his  bonnet, 
and  his  matches,  and  your  elevenpence ;  and  both  his 
legs  are  broken,  and  he ’s  no  weel  at  a’,  and  the  doctor 
says  he  ’ll  dee.  And  that ’s  a’  he  can  gie  ye  the  noo,’ 
putting  fourpence  down  on  the  table;  and  then  the 
child  broke  down  into  great  sobs.  So  I  fed  the  little 
man ;  and  then  I  went  with  him  to  see  Sandie. 

“I  found  that  the  two  little  things  lived  with  a 
wretched  drunken  stepmother;  their  own  father  and 


214 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT 


mother  were  both  dead.  I  found  poor  Sandie  lying  on 
a  bundle  of  shavings ;  he  knew  me  as  soon  as  I  came 
in,  and  said,  ‘I  got  the  change,  sir,  and  was  coming 
back ;  and  then  the  horse  knocked  me  down,  and 
both  my  legs  are  broken.  And  Reuby,  little  Reuby ! 
I  am  sure  I  am  deein’  !  And  who  will  take  care 
o’  ye,  Reuby,  when  I  am  gane  ?  What  will  ye  do, 
Reuby  ?  ’ 

“  Then  I  tdbk  the  poor  little  sufferer’s  hand  and  told 
him  I  would  always  take  care  of  Reuby.  He  under 
stood  me,  and  had  just  strength  to  look  at  me  as  if  he 
would  thank  me ;  then  the  expression  went  out  of  his 
blue  eyes  ;  and  in  a  moment * — 

“  ‘  He  lay  within  the  light  of  God, 

Like  a  babe  upon  the  breast, 

Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest.  ’  ” 

Heaven  meant  principle  to  that  little  match-boy, 
bruised  and  dying.  He  knew  little  where  he  was  to  go, 
but  he  knew  better  than  most  of  those  who  would  have 
spurned  him  from  their  carriages,  the  value  of  honesty, 
truth,  nobility,  sincerity,  genuineness, — the  qualities 
that  go  to  make  heaven. 

“I  will  give  a  hundred  French  louis  to  any  one  who 
will  venture  to  deliver  these  unfortunate  people,”  said 
Count  Spolverini  when  the  swollen  Adige  swept  away 
the  bridge  of  Verona,  with  the  exception  of  the  centre 
arch.  On  this  section  stood  a  house  whose  inmates 
cried  for  help  from  the  windows,  as  they  saw  the  founda¬ 
tions  slowly  giving  way.  A  young  peasant  seized  a  boat 
and  pushed  into  the  flood.  He  gained  the  pier,  took 
the  whole  family  into  the  little  boat,  and  carried  them 
safely  to  land.  “  Here  is  your  money,  my  brave 
young  fellow,”  said  the  count.  “  No,”  said  the  youth, 

I  do  not  sell  my  life ;  give  the  money  to  this  poor 
family,  who  have  need  of  it.” 

Robert,  Duke  of  Normandy,  eldest  son  of  William 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


215 


the  Conqueror,  had  been  struck  by  a  poisoned  arrow, 
and  his  physicians  said  he  must  die  unless  the  venom 
were  sucked  from  the  wound  by  some  one,  whose  life 
would  be  forfeited.  Robert  disdained  to  receive  such 
aid,  but  Sibilla  sucked  the  wound  while  the  duke  lay 
asleep,  and  died  to  save  her  husband. 

During  an  epidemic  of  yellow  fever  in  Savannah,  the 
whole  force  in  a  leading  drug-store  lied  except  one 
young  clerk  who  refused  to  leave  the  post  of  duty,  in 
spite  of  the  protestations  of  his  friends,  and  remained 
until  the  proprietor  ordered  him  to  close  the  doors.  He 
went  at  once  to  another  store,  where  he  worked  day 
and  night,  without  even  removing  his  clothes  for  sleep, 
and  allowing  himself  but  scanty  time  for  meals.  The 
owner  of  this  shop  was  stricken  with  fever,  and  the  boy 
nursed  him  until  the  man  died.  The  cook  was  next 
prostrated  and  he  watched  with  her,  saving  her  life.  A 
bosom  friend  was  taken  ill  at  this  time ;  and  the  clerk, 
without  neglecting  his  duties,  nursed  him  to  convales¬ 
cence  ;  when  he,  too,  was  prostrated  by  the  relentless 
plague. 

Then  the  young  man  who  had  been  nursed  to  re¬ 
covery  showed  his  gratitude,  watching  with  the  clerk 
day  and  night,  although  the  task  was  too  great  for  his 
strength.  “  I  will  stick  to  him  to  the  last,”  and“l 
shall  not  sleep  to-night,”  were  his  last  messages  sent  to 
friends  who  had  not  dared  to  come  near.  Both  died 
that  night. 

In  a  similar  epidemic  at  Memphis,  the  members  of 
the  Relief  Committee  were  at  their  wits’  end,  to  obtain 
watchers,  when  a  man  with  coarse  features,  close- 
cropped  hair,  and  shuffling  gait,  went  directly  to  one 
of  the  attending  physicians  and  said:  “I  want  to 
nurse.” 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  critically,  concluded  he 
was  not  fitted  for  the  work  in  any  way,  and  replied: 
u  You  are  not  needed.” 


216 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  I  wish  to  nurse/’  persisted  the  stranger.  “  Try  me 
for  a  week.  If  you  don’t  like  me,  then  dismiss  me ;  if 
you  do,  pay  me  my  wages.” 

“  Very  well,”  said  the  doctor,  “  I  ’ll  take  you, 
although  to  be  candid,  I  hesitate  to  do  so.”  Then  he 
added  mentally,  “  I  ’ll  keep  my  eye  on  him.” 

But  the  man  soon  proved  that  he  needed  nobody’s 
eye  upon  him.  In  a  few  weeks  he  had  become  one  of 
the  most  valuable  nurses  on  that  heroic  force.  He 
was  tireless  and  self-denying.  Wherever  the  pestilence 
raged  most  fiercely  he  worked  hardest.  The  suffering 
and  the  sinking  adored  him.  To  the  neglected  and  the 
forgotten  his  rough  face  was  as  the  face  of  an  angel. 

He  acted  so  strangely  on  pay-days,  however,  that  he 
was  followed  through  back  streets  to  an  obscure  place, 
where  he  was  seen  to  put  his  whole  week’s  earnings 
into  a  relief-box  for  the  benefit  of  the  yellow-fever  suf¬ 
ferers.  Hot  long  afterwards  he  sickened  and  died  of 
the  plague  ;  and  when  his  body  was  prepared  for  its 
unnamed  grave,  for  he  had  never  told  who  he  was,  a 
livid  mark  was  found  which  showed  that  John,  the 
nurse,  had  been  branded  as  a  convicted  felon. 

From  London  in  1676  the  Great  Plague  had  spread  to 
Eyarn  in  Derbyshire,  a  beautiful  village  nestling  among 
the  hills.  The  people  in  terror  prepared  to  flee,  when 
their  rector,  the  Lev.  William  Mompesson,  announced 
his  intention  to  remain,  and  advised  all  to  follow  his 
example.  “  The  plague  is  already  among  us,”  said  he, 
“  and  it  is  not  likely  that  any  one  could  avoid  carrying 
infection  with  him,  wherever  he  might  go.  It  would 
be  selfish  cruelty  to  other  places  to  try  to  escape 
amongst  their  people,  and  thus  spread  the  danger.”  Of 
their  own  free  will  all  adopted  his  advice,  and  for 
seven  months  they  calmly  faced  death  in  its  most  ter¬ 
rible  form,  four  out  of  every  five  falling  victims.  Mr. 
Mompesson  labored  with  all  his  might  in  all  the  offices 
of  a  nurse  and  a  clergyman,  and  escaped  scathless, 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


217 


although  his  faithful  wife,  who  ably  seconded  his  ef¬ 
forts,  was  among  those  whose  funeral  services  he  was 
compelled  to  pronounce.  Supplies  were  brought  from  a 
distance  through  the  agency  of  the  Earl  of  Derbyshire, 
and  left  on  the  hills  above  Eyam,  the  people  leaving 
silver  in  payment  at  the  same  place.  As  a  result  of 
their  self-sacrificing  devotion  there  was  not  a  case  of 
plague  in  any  of  the  surrounding  villages. 

That  is  but  a  low  standard  of  greatness  which  meas- 
ures  a  man  by  his  employment  or  what  he  can  buy  rather 
than  by  what  he  is.  A  hod-carrier  may  be  infinitely  su¬ 
perior  to  the  millionaire  under  whose  bricks  he  staggers. 
The  real  world  in  which  the  laborer  lives,  as  shown  by 
his  lofty  conversation  and  noble  living,  may  be  as  far 
above  that  of  his  employer  as  heaven  is  high  above 
hell.  The  greatest  monetary  success  on  earth  may 
mean  the  dreariest  failure  in  the  world  to  come. 

What  a  shock  was  given  to  the  would-be  aristocratic 
world  when  President  Lincoln  took  off  his  hat  and 
bowed  in  silence  to  a  colored  ex-slave  in  Pichmond, 
after  that  city  had  fallen.  “  God  bless  you,  Massa 
Linkum,”  was  the  fervid  exclamation  of  many  an  igno¬ 
rant  negro,  after  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  had 
been  delivered. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  in  this  money-getting  era 
that  a  poor  author,  or  a  seedy  artist,  or  a  college  presi¬ 
dent  with  frayed  coat-sleeves,  has  more  standing  in 
society  and  has  more  paragraphs  written  about  him 
in  the  papers  than  many  a  millionaire.  This  is  due, 
perhaps,  to  the  malign  influence  of  money-getting  and 
to  the  benign  effect  of  purely  intellectual  pursuits.  As 
a  rule  every  great  success  in  the  money  world  means 
the  failure  and  misery  of  hundreds  of  antagonists. 
Every  success  in  the  world  of  intellect  and  character  is 
an  aid  and  profit  to  society.  Character  is  a  mark  cut 
upon  something,  and  this  indelible  mark  determines 
the  only  true  value  of  all  people  and  all  their  work. 


218 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Dr.  Hunter  said  :  “  No  man  was  ever  a  great  man  who 

wanted  to  be  one.”  Artists  cannot  help  putting  them¬ 
selves  and  their  own  characters  into  their  works.  The 
vulgar  artist  cannot  paint  a  virtuous  picture.  The 
gross,  the  bizarre,  the  sensitive,  the  delicate,  all  come 
out  on  the  canvas  and  tell  the  story  of  his  life. 

Byron  once  wrote  of  a  passion,  which  was  one  that  he 
did  not  possess  :  — 

u  A  thirst  for  gold, 

The  beggar’s  vice,  which  can  but  overwhelm 
The  meanest  hearts.” 

He  might  have  written  “the  noblest  hearts,”  with 
truth.  It  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  any  one  sees  any 
inherent  sin  in  riches  any  more  than  he  does  in  tennis 
or  dancing.  But  Christ,  who  said  to  his  disciples, 
“Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  a  rich  man  shall  hardly 
enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,”  well  understood 
the  moral  degeneracy  that  almost  inevitably  attends  the 
struggle  for  great  wealth.  Somehow,  in  spite  of  many 
examples  to  the  contrary,  the  race  for  thousands,  and 
then  millions,  often  strangles  nobility  of  character  and 
tarnishes  the  soul  of  honor. 

Money-getting  has  well  been  called  unhealthy  when 
it  impoverishes  the  mind,  or  dries  up  the  sources  of  the 
spiritual  life  ;  when  it  extinguishes  the  sense  of  beauty, 
and  makes  one  indifferent  to  the  wonders  of  nature  and 
art ;  when  it  blunts  the  moral  sense,  and  confuses  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  virtue  and  vice ; 
when  it  stifles  religious  impulse,  and  blots  all  thoughts 
of  God  from  the  soul. 

Money-getting  is  unhealthy,  when  it  engrosses  all 
one’s  thought,  leads  a  man  to  live  meanly  and  coarsely, 
to  do  without  books,  pictures,  music,  travel,  for  the 
sake  of  greater  gains,  and  causes  him  to  find  his  deepest 
and  most  soul-satisfying  joy,  not  in  the  culture  of  his 
heart  or  mind,  not  in  doing  good  to  himself  or  others, 
but  in  the  adding  of  eagle  to  eagle,  in  the  knowledge 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


219 


that  the  money  in  his  chest  is  piled  up  higher  and 
higher  every  year,  that  his  account  at  the  bank  is  con¬ 
stantly  growing,  that  he  is  adding  bonds  to  bonds^ 
mortgages  to  mortgages,  stocks  to  stocks. 

An  Arab  who  fortunately  escaped  death  after  losing 
his  way  in  the  desert,  without  provisions,  tells  of  his 
feelings  when  he  found  a  bag  full  of  pearls,  just  as  he 
was  about  to  abandon  all  hope.  “  I  shall  never  for¬ 
get,”  said  he,  “the  relish  and  delight  that  I  felt  on 
supposing  it  to  be  fried  wheat,  nor  the  bitterness  and 
despair  I  suffered  on  discovering  that  the  bag  contained 
pearls.” 

A  miser,  robbed  of  a  store  of  buried  gold,  over  which 
he  had  long  gloated  in  secret,  was  advised  by  a  wise 
friend  to  bury  some  oyster-shells  in  the  place  where  the 
gold  had  been,  and  visit  them  and  chuckle  over  their 
possession  daily. 

In  a  fable  an  old  miser  is  said  to  have  kept  a  tame 
jackdaw  that  would  steal  pieces  of  money  and  hide 
them  in  a  hole.  The  cat  reproved  him,  as  the  coins 
would  be  of  no  use  to  him.  The  jackdaw  replied : 
“  Why,  my  master  has  a  whole  chestful  and  makes  no 
more  use  of  them  than  I.” 

King  Midas,  in  the  ancient  myth,  asked  that  every¬ 
thing  he  touched  might  be  turned  to  gold,  for  then,  he 
thought,  he  would  be  perfectly  happy.  His  request  was 
granted,  but  when  his  clothes,  his  food,  his  drink,  the 
flowers  he  plucked,  and  even  his  little  daughter,  whom 
he  kissed,  were  all  changed  into  yellow  metal,  he  begged 
that  the  Golden  Touch  might  be  taken  from  him.  He 
had  learned  that  many  other  things  are  intrinsically  fai 
more  valuable  than  all  the  gold  that  was  ever  dug  from 
the  earth. 

Socrates  did  not  teach  for  money,  but  to  propagate 
wisdom.  He  declared  that  the  highest  reward  he  could 
enjoy  was  to  see  mankind  benefited  by  his  labors. 

Agassiz  would  not  lecture  at  five  hundred  dollars  a 


220 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


niglit,  because  be  bad  no  time  to  make  money.  Charles 
Sumner,  when  a  senator,  declined  to  lecture  at  any 
price,  saying  that  bis  time  belonged  to  Massachusetts 
and  the  nation.  Spurgeon  would  not  speak  for  fifty 
nights  in  America  at  one  thousand  dollars  a  night, 
because  he  said  he  could  do  better  :  he  could  stay  in 
London  and  try  to  save  fifty  souls.  All  honor  to  the 
comparative  few  in  every  walk  of  life  who,  amid  the 
strong  materialistic  tendencies  of  our  age,  still  speak 
and  act  earnestly,  inspired  by  the  hope  of  rewards  other 
than  gold  or  popular  favor.  These  are  our  truly  great 
men  and  women.  They  labor  in  their  ordinary  voca¬ 
tions  with  no  less  zeal  because  they  give  time  and 
thought  to  higher  things. 

After  he  had  conquered  Mysore,  Wellington  was  of¬ 
fered  $500,000  by  the  East  India  Company,  but  he 
refused  to  touch  the  money. 

Charles  Napier  was  offered  $100,000  by  an  Indian 
prince,  as  a  bribe,  but  he  refused  the  proffered  gift  of 
the  barbarian. 

Weirtz,  of  Brussels,  said  to  a  man  who  wanted  to  buy 
one  of  his  pictures,  “Keep  your  money.  Gold  is  a 
death-blow  to  art.”  It  has  been  said  that  “  man’s  intel¬ 
lect  receives  its  highest  polish  where  gold  and  silver 
lose  theirs.”  A  little  integrity  is  better  than  a  great 
career  of  questionable  method. 

Luther’s  will  stated  that  he  left  “  no  money,  no  treas¬ 
ures  of  any  kind  or  description,”  yet  the  king  did  not 
sit  upon  his  throne  so  securely  as  did  Luther  upon  the 
throne  of  honor. 

“  There  is  a  burden  of  care  in  getting  riches,”  says 
Matthew  Henry,  “  fear  in  keeping  them,  temptation  in 
using  them,  guilt  in  abusing  them,  sorrow  in  losing 
them,  and  a  burden  of  account  at  last  to  be  given  up 
concerning  them.” 

“  These  are  my  jewels,”  said  Cornelia  to  the  Cam¬ 
panian  lady  who  asked  to  see  her  gems  j  and  she  pointed 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


221 


with  pride  to  her  boys  returning  from  school.  The  re¬ 
ply  was  worthy  the  daughter  of  Scipio  Africanus  and 
wife  of  Tiberius  Gracchus.  The  most  valuable  produc¬ 
tion  of  any  country  is  its  crop  of  men. 

He  is  the  richest  man  who  enriches  his  country  most; 
in  whom  the  people  feel  richest  and  proudest ;  who 
gives  himself  with  his  money  ;  who  opens  the  doors  of 
opportunity  widest  to  those  about  him;  who  is  ears  to 
the  deaf,  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  feet  to  the  lame.  Such 
a  man  makes  every  acre  of  land  in  his  community  worth 
more,  and  makes  richer  every  man  who  lives  near  him. 
On  the  other  hand,  many  a  millionaire  has  impoverished 
the  town  in  which  he  lived,  and  lessened  the  value  of 
every  foot  of  land. 

“I  know  of  no  great  man,”  said  Voltaire,  "  except 
those  who  have  rendered  great  services  to  the  human 
race.”  Men  are  measured  by  what  they  do,  not  by 
what  they  possess. 

"Is  there  a  physician,”  asks  Bulwer,  "who  has 
not  felt  at  times  how  that  ceremonious  fee  throws 
him  back  from  the  garden-land  of  humanity  into  the 
market-place  of  money  —  seems  to  put  him  out  of  the 
pale  of  equal  friendship,  and  say :  c  True,  you  have 
given  health  and  life.  Adieu !  there,  you  are  paid  for 
it’?” 

When  a  letter  from  Washington  was  read  in  Con¬ 
gress,  suggesting  the  propriety  of  bombarding  Boston, 
a  solemn  silence  ensued,  for  all  the  members  knew  that 
their  presiding  officer,  J ohn  Hancock,  was  a  large  owner 
of  real  estate  in  that  town.  To  give  him  an  opportu¬ 
nity  to  speak,  the  body  resolved  itself  into  a  committee 
of  the  whole,  when  Mr.  Hancock  said  :  "  It  is  true,  sir, 
nearly  all  my  property  in  the  world  is  in  houses  and 
other  real  estate  in  the  town  of  Boston ;  but  if  the  ex¬ 
pulsion  of  the  British  army  from  it,  and  the  liberties  of 
our  country,  require  their  being  burnt  to  ashes,  issue  the 
order  for  that  purpose  immediately.” 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


m 

Barrows  of  Cambridge  resigned  his  professorship  to 
make  a  place  for  his  pupil,  Isaac  Newton. 

“  If  we  work  upon  gold  it  will  perish  ;  if  upon  brass, 
time  will  efface  it ;  if  we  rear  temples,  they  will  crum¬ 
ble  into  dust.  But  if  we  work  upon  immortal  minds  — • 
if  we  imbue  them  with  high  principles,  with  the  just 
fear  of  God,  with  manhood  and  the  respect  of  it  —  we 
engrave  on  these  tables  something  which  no  time  can 
efface,  but  which  will  grow  brighter  through  all  eter 
nity.” 

“  Education  —  a  debt  due  from  present  to  future  gen¬ 
erations, ”  w’as  the  sentiment  found  in  a  sealed  envelope 
opened  during  the  centennial  celebration  at  Danvers, 
Mass.  In  the  same  envelope  was  a  check  for  twenty 
thousand  dollars  for  a  town  library  and  institute.  The 
sender  was  George  Peabody,  one  of  the  most  remark¬ 
able  men  of  this  century,  once  a  poor  boy,  but  then  a 
millionaire  banker.  At  another  banquet  given  in  his 
honor  at  Danvers,  years  afterwards,  he  gave  two  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  the  same  institute. 
“  Steadfast  and  undeviating  truth,’7  said  he,  “  fearless 
and  straightforward  integrity,  and  an  honor  ever  unsul¬ 
lied  by  an  unworthy  word  or  action,  make  their  pos¬ 
sessor  greater  than  worldly  success  or  prosperity. 
These  qualities  constitute  greatness.” 

Neither  a  man’s  means,  nor  his  worth,  are  measurable 
by  his  money.  If  he  has  a  fat  purse  and  a  lean  heart, 
a  broad  estate  and  a  narrow  understanding,  what  will 
his  “  means  ”  do  for  him  —  what  will  his  “  worth  ”  gain 
him  ?  What  sadder  sight  is  there  than  an  old  man 
who  has  spent  his  whole  life  getting  instead  of  growing  ? 
He  has  piled  up  books,  statuary,  and  paintings,  with  his 
wealth,  but  he  is  a  stranger  amongst  them.  His  sou] 
has  shriveled  to  that  of  a  miser,  and  all  his  nobler  in¬ 
stincts  are  dead. 

The  honesty  and  integrity  of  A.  T.  Stewart  won  for 
him  a  great  reputation,  and  the  young  schoolmastei 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


223 


who  began  life  in  New  York  on  less  than  a  dollar  a  day, 
^massed  nearly  forty  million  dollars,  and  there  was 
not  a  smirched  dollar  in  all  those  millions. 

Do  you  call  him  successful  who  wears  a  bull-dog  ex. 
pression  that  but  too  plainly  tells  the  story  of  how  he 
gained  his  fortune,  taking  but  never  giving  ?  Can  you 
not  read  in  that  brow-beating  face  the  sad  experience  of 
widows  and  orphans?  Do  you  call  him  a  self-made 
man  who  has  unmade  others  to  make  himself,  — 
who  tears  others  down  to  build  himself  up?  Can  a 
man  be  really  rich  who  makes  others  poorer  ?  Can  he 
be  happy  in  whose  every  lineament  chronic  avarice  is 
seen  as  plainly  as  hunger  in  the  countenance  of  a  wolf  ? 
How  seldom  sweet,  serene,  beautiful  faces  are  seen  on 
men  who  have  been  very  successful  as  the  world  rates 
success  !  Nature  expresses  in  the  face  and  manner  the 
sentiment  which  rules  the  heart. 

When  petitioned  to  license  the  opium  traffic,  the  pa¬ 
gan  emperor  of  China  said:  “ Nothing  will  induce  me 
to  derive  a  revenue  from  the  vice  and  misery  of  my  peo¬ 
ple.”  But  Christian  England  has  been  only  too  glad  to 
derive  an  immense  income  from  this  very  traffic,  and 
Christian  America  still  obtains  large  sums  from  the 
sale  of  licenses  to  dealers  in  alcoholic  drinks.  No 
wonder  the  state,  which  should  be  a  father  instead  of  a 
murderer,  nourishes  a  degraded  race  of  men,  bereft  of 
the  old-fashioned  virtues  of  pity,  and  benevolence,  and 
generosity,  who,  wherever  there  is  a  glitter  of  gold,  claw 
one  another  to  obtain  the  vulgar  metal. 


In  the  days  of  the  Abolitionists,  a  great  “  Union  Sav¬ 
ing  Committee”  of  their  opponents  met  at  Castle  Gar¬ 
den,  New  York,  and  decided  that  merchants  who  would 
not  oppose  the  “  fanatics  ”  should  be  put  on  a  “  Black 
List”  and  crushed  financially.  Messrs.  Bowen  &  Me- 
Namee,  however,  stated  in  their  advertisements  that 
they  hoped  to  sell  their  silks,  but  would  not  sell  their 
principles.  Their  independent  stand  created  a  great 


L 


224 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


sensation  throughout  the  country.  People  wanted  to 
buy  of  men  who  would  not  sell  themselves. 

When  Scipio  Africanus  was  accused  of  peculation,  he 
refused  to  disgrace  himself  by  waiting  for  justification, 
though  he  had  the  scroll  of  his  accounts  in  his  hands. 
He  immediately  tore  the  paper  to  pieces  before  the  trib¬ 
unes. 

When  the  corner-stone  of  the  Washington  monument 
was  laid,  July  4,  1848,  Mr.  Winthrop  said :  “  Build  it  to 
the  skies  —  you  cannot  outreach  the  loftiness  of  his 
principles ;  found  it  upon  the  massive  and  eternal  rock 
—  you  cannot  make  it  more  enduring  than  his  fame ; 
construct  it  of  the  purest  Parian  marble — you  cannot 
make  it  purer  than  his  life.” 

Webster  said  :  “  America  has  furnished  to  the  world 
the  character  of  Washington ;  if  our  American  institu¬ 
tions  had  done  nothing  else,  that  alone  would  have  em 
titled  them  to  the  respect  of  mankind.” 

Where,  asked  Byron,  — 

“  Where  may  the  wearied  eye  repose 
When  gazing  on  the  great, 

Where  neither  guilty  glory  glows, 

Nor  despicable  state  ! 

“  Yes,  one  — the  first,  the  last,  the  best. 

The  Cincinnatus  of  the  West, 

Whom  envy  dared  not  hate  — 

Bequeathed  the  name  of  Washington, 

To  make  men  blush  there  was  but  one  ! ,f 

Lord  Erskine  wrote  to  Washington:  “You  are  the 
only  being  for  whom  I  have  an  awful  reverence.” 

Charles  James  Eox,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  spoke 
of  that  “  illustrious  man,  before  ’  whom  all  borrowed 
greatness  sinks  into  insignificance.” 

Lord  Brougham  said  :  “  Until  time  shall  be  no  more^ 
will  a  test  of  the  progress  which  our  race  has  made  iu 
wisdom  and  virtue  be  derived  from  the  veneration  paid 
to  the  immortal  name  of  Washington  !  ” 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


m 


Gladstone  called  Washington  “the  purest  figure  in 
history,”  and  added  :  “  If,  among  all  the  pedestals  sup¬ 
plied  by  history  for  public  characters  of  extraordinary 
nobility  and  purity,  I  saw  one  higher  than  all  the  rest, 
and  if  I  were  required  at  a  moment’s  notice  to  name  the 
fittest  occupant  for  it,  I  think  my  choice,  at  any  time 
within  the  last  forty-five  years,  would  have  lighted,  and 
ft  would  now  light,  upon  Washington  !  ” 

Fisher  Ames  wrote  :  “  He  changed  mankind’s  ideas  of 
political  greatness.” 

Lafayette,  speaking  of  his  friend,  said:  “Never  did 
I  behold  so  superb  a  man.” 

“  We  look  with  amazement,”  wrote  an  eminent 
thinker,  “on  such  eccentric  characters  as  Alexander, 
Caesar,  Cromwell,  Frederick,  and  Napoleon,  but  when 
Washington’s  face  rises  before  us,  instinctively  mankind 
exclaims,  1  This  is  the  man  for  nations  to  trust  and  rev¬ 
erence,  and  for  rulers  to  follow.’  ” 

Washington  practiced  the  profound  diplomacy  of 
truthful  speech,  —  the  consummate  tact  of  direct  atten¬ 
tion. 

Lincoln  always  yearned  for  a  rounded  wholeness  of 
character ;  and  his  fellow  lawyers  called  him  “  per¬ 
versely  honest.”  Nothing  could  induce  him  to  take  the 
wrong  side  of  a  case,  or  to  continue  on  that  side  after 
learning  that  it  was  unjust  or  hopeless.  After  giving 
considerable  time  to  a  case  in  which  he  had  received 
from  a  lady  a  retainer  of  two  hundred  dollars,  he  re¬ 
turned  the  money,  saying :  “  Madam,  you  have  not  a  peg 
to  hang  your  case  on.”  “But  you  have  earned  that 
money,”  said  the  lady.  “No,  no,”  replied  Lincoln, 
“  that  would  not  be  right.  I  can’t  take  pay  for  doing 
my  duty.” 

“  The  greatest  works,”  says  Waters,  “  have  brought 
the  least  benefit  to  their  authors.  They  were  beyond 
the  reach  of  appreciation  before  appreciation  came. 
The  benefactors  of  mankind  have  never  stooped  to  the 


226 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


quest  of  lucre.  Who  can  conceive  of  Socrates  or  St 
Paul,  Martin  Luther  or  John  Wesley,  John  Hampden 
or  George  Washington,  scheming  to  make  money  ?  ” 

There  should  be  something  in  a  man’s  life  greater 
than  his  occupation  or  his  achievements ;  grander  than 
acquisition  or  wealth ;  higher  than  genius ;  more  en¬ 
during  than  fame.  Men  and  nations  put  their  trust 
in  education,  culture,  and  the  refining  influences  of 
civilized  life,  but  these  alone  can  never  elevate  or  save 
a  people.  Art,  luxury,  and  degradation  have  been  boon 
companions  all  down  the  centuries. 

Phidias  was  adding  the  last  touch  of  grace  to  Grecian 
art  in  the  Parthenon  when  the  glory  of  Athens  departed. 
Rome  fell  when  art  was  in  its  golden  age,  while  Mars, 
Bacchus,  and  Venus  sat  upon  the  throne  of  the  Csesars. 
Wealth  is  demoralizing  when  obtained  at  the  sacrifice 
of  character.  The  more  money  a  man  or  nation  has,  the 
more  moral  strength  is  needed  to  protect  from  its  de¬ 
moralizing  influence. 

A  man  may  make  millions  and  be  a  failure  still. 
Money-making  is  not  the  highest  success.  The  life  of 
a  well-known  millionaire  was  not  truly  successful.  He 
had  but  one  ambition.  He  coined  his  very  soul  into 
dollars.  The  almighty  dollar  was  his  sun,  and  was 
mirrored  in  his  heart.  He  strangled  all  other  emotions 
and  hushed  and  stifled  all  nobler  aspirations.  He 
grasped  his  riches  tightly,  till  stricken  by  the  scythe 
of  death  ;  when,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  was 
transformed  from  one  of  the  richest  men  who  ever 
lived  in  this  world  to  one  of  the  poorest  souls  that  ever 
went  out  of  it. 

“  The  truest  test  of  civilization,”  says  Emerson,  “  is 
not  the  census,  nor  the  size  of  cities,  nor  the  crops  ;  no, 
but  the  kind  of  man  the  country  turns  out.” 

Character  is  success ,  and  there  is  no  other. 

The  passion  for  wealth  often  stifles  every  noble  as¬ 
piration.  Rothschild  was  called  “  one  of  the  most 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


227 


devout  worshipers  that  ever  laid  a  withered  soul  upon 
the  altar  of  Mammon.”  Is  it  any  wonder  that  our 
young  men  start  out  with  a  false  idea  of  the  great 
object  of  life,  when  they  see  everybody  else  bowing 
and  scraping  and  running  after  the  men  with  crowns 
of  gold  upon  their  heads,  but  with  corruption  in  their 
hearts  ? 

When  a  lady  is  married,  people  ash,  “  Did  she  marry 
well  ?  ”  That  is,  did  she  marry  money  ;  not,  did  she 
marry  an  honest,  clean,  upright  man  ?  Can  anything 
be  more  pitiable  than  a  fat  purse  and  a  lean  soul,  a  large 
house  and  a  small  character  ? 

“  When  I  asked  you  for  anecdotes  upon  the  age  of 
this  king,”  said  Voltaire,  while  preparing  his  “  History 
of  Louis  XIV.,”  “I  referred  less  to  the  king  himself 
than  to  the  art  which  flourished  in  his  reign.  I  should 
prefer  details  relating  to  Racine  and  Boileau,  to  Sully, 
Moliere,  Lebrun,  Bossuet,  Poussin,  Descartes,  and 
others,  than  to  the  battle  of  Steinkirk.  Nothing  but  a 
name  remains  of  those  who  commanded  battalions  and 
fleets,  nothing  results  to  the  human  race  from  a  hun¬ 
dred  battles  gained ;  but  the  great  men  of  whom  I  have 
spoken  prepared  pure  and  durable  delights  for  genera¬ 
tions  unborn.  A  canal  that  connects  the  seas,  a  picture 
by  Poussin,  a  beautiful  tragedy,  a  discovered  truth,  are 
things  a  thousand  times  more  precious  than  all  the  an¬ 
nals  of  the  court,  than  all  the  narratives  of  war.  You 
know  that  with  me  great  men  rank  first,  heroes  last.  I 
call  great  men  those  who  have  excelled  in  the  useful 
or  the  agreeable.  The  ravagers  of  provinces  are  mere 
heroes.” 

“  Not  a  child  did  I  injure,”  says  the  epitaph  of  an 
Egyptian  ruler  who  lived  in  a  pagan  age  more  than  forty 
centuries  ago.  “Not  a  widow  did  I  oppress.  Not  a 
herdsman  did  I  ill  treat.  There  were  no  beggars  in 
my  day,  no  one  starved  in  my  time.  And  when  the 
years  of  famine  came,  I  ploughed  all  the  lands  of  the 


?28 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


province  to  its  northern  and  southern  boundaries,  feed* 
ing  its  inhabitants  and  providing  their  food.  There  was 
no  starving  person  in  it,  and  I  made  the  widow  to  be  as 
though  she  possessed  a  husband.”  What  ruler  can  say 
as  much  in  our  enlightened  age  ? 

“  When  real  history  shall  be  written  by  the  truthful 
and  the  wise,”  says  Ingersoll,  “the  kneelers  at  the 
shrines  of  chance  and  fraud,  the  brazen  idols  once  wor¬ 
shiped  as  gods,  shall  be  the  very  food  of  scorn,  while 
those  who  have  borne  the  burden  of  defeat,  who  have 
earned  and  kept  their  self-respect,  who  have  never 
bowed  to  men  or  power,  will  wear  upon  their  brows  the 
laurel  mingled  witli  the  oak.” 

Emerson  well  said  that  the  advantage  of  riches  re¬ 
mains  with  him  who  procured  them,  not  with  the  heir. 
“When  I  go  into  my  garden  with  a  spade,”  he  says, 
“  and  dig  a  bed,  I  feel  such  an  exhilaration  and  health, 
that  I  discover  I  have  been  defrauding  myself  all  this 
time  in  letting  others  do  for  me  what  I  should  have 
done  with  my  own  hands.  But  not  only  health,  but 
education,  is  in  the  work.  Is  it  possible  that  I  who  get 
indefinite  quantities  of  sugar,  hominy,  cotton,  buckets, 
crockery-ware,  and  letter-paper,  by  simply  signing  my 
name  once  in  three  months  to  a  check  in  favor  of  John 
Smith  &  Co.,  traders,  get  the  fair  share  of  exercise  to 
my  faculties  by  that  act,  which  nature  intended  for  me 
in  making  all  these  far-fetched  matters  important  to 
my  comfort  ?  ” 

“My  kingdom  for  a  horse,”  said  Bichard  III.  of  Eng¬ 
land  amid  the  press  of  Bosworth  Field.  “  My  kingdom 
for  a  moment,”  said  Queen  Elizabeth  on  her  death-bed. 
And  millions  of  others,  when  they  have  felt  earth,  its 
riches  and  power  slipping  from  their  grasp,  have  shown 
plainly  that  deep  down  in  their  hearts  they  value  such 
things  at  naught  when  really  compared  with  the  blessed 
light  of  life,  the  stars  and  flowers,  the  companionship 
of  friends,  and  far  above  all  else,  the  opportunity  of 


GREATER  TRAN  WEALTH .  229 

growth  and  development  here  and  of  preparation  for  fu¬ 
ture  life. 

History  shows  that  the  time  always  comes  when  an¬ 
guish  and  hunger  rise  greater  than  wealth  and  crush  it. 
That  was  the  story  of  the  French  Revolution.  What 
anarchist  is  so  base  as  to  have  threatened  George  W. 
Childs,  of  Philadelphia,  because  he  was  a  rich  man  ? 
He  might  blow  up  others,  but  not  Mr.  Childs.  Is  it  not 
because  the  famous  editor  exhibited  something  in  his 
character  greater  than  wealth,  that  irresistibly  soft¬ 
ened  hatred,  drew  the  hungry  to  him  for  bread,  the 
ignorant  for  education,  the  homeless  for  a  home  ? 

He  was  here  to  supply  those  needs,  and  the  love  of 
humanity,  and  the  sympathy  for  all  kinds  of  want  and 
suffering,  — these  were  the  greatest  things  in  the  world 
to  him.  Doing  good  to  others,  he  said,  was  the  greatest 
pleasure  of  his  life.  History  demonstrates  what  the 
Bible  teaches,  that  love  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the 
world.  A  beautiful  illustration  comes  to  us  from 
the  life  of  Mr.  Charles  N.  Crittendon,  who  has  strik¬ 
ingly  lived  up  to  the  Go]  den  Rule.  When  he  became 
as  rich  as  he  thought  he  ought  to  be,  he  took  into  part¬ 
nership  five  of  the  heads  of  departments  in  his  great 
wholesale  house  in  New  York.  The  voluntary  transfer 
by  a  man  of  large  means,  of  a  large  interest  in  his  busi¬ 
ness  to  his  employees  without  the  payment  of  a  penny, 
is  unique  in  this  money-grasping  age. 

Mr.  Crittendon  devotes  his  entire  time  to  evangelistic 
work,  and  his  fortune  to  founding  Florence  Crittendon 
missions  for  the  rescue  of  erring  girls.  The  story  of 
their  founding  melts  all  hearts  to  tenderness  and  all 
eyes  to  tears.  A  few  years  ago,  his  little  four-year-old 
Florence,  on  her  dying  bed,  pleaded :  “  Papa,  sing  ‘  The 
Sweet  By  and  By.’  ”  With  choking  voice  and  break¬ 
ing  heart  her  father  sang  the  beautiful  words,  and  her 
beloved  spirit  floated  heavenward  on  the  wings  of  song. 

Mr.  Crittendon  went  down  into  the  slums  and  helped 


230 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


to  uplift  the  fallen,  and  one  night  when  he  was  plead¬ 
ing  with  a  poor  erring  girl  to  leave  her  life  of  shame, 
he  said  in  the  words  of  Christ:  “ Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee  ;  go  and  sin  no  more.”  Through  her  tears  she  said, 
i(  Where  can  I  go  ?  ” 

Quick  as  a  flash  came  the  thought,  “  Where  can  she 
go  ?  Scarce  a  door  save  a  door  of  sin  is  open  to  her ; 99 
and  then  and  there  he  determined,  as  a  memorial  to  his 
own  little  Florence,  to  found  a  home  where  other  fa¬ 
thers’  little  girls,  lost  in  the  whirlpool  of  shame,  might 
be  rescued  and  restored  to  a  life  of  virtue.  So  on 
Bleecker  Street,  New  York,  a  few  years  ago,  was  opened 
the  first  Florence  Crittendon  Mission,  a  large  double 
four-story  house,  where  food  and  shelter  and  clothing 
and  a  home  are  freely  given,  and  under  the  influence  of 
Mother  Prindle,  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  matron,  hundreds 
become  Christian  women.  Over  five  hundred  girls 
annually  find  a  home  here,  and  three  fourths  of  them 
are  redeemed. 

Mr.  Crittendon  has  also  established  Florence  Critten¬ 
don  missions  in  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  San  Jose,  Sacra¬ 
mento,  Los  Angeles,  and  San  Francisco,  California. 

It  is  the  dream  of  his  life  to  found  a  Florence  Crit¬ 
tendon  mission  in  every  large  city  in  America  and 
Europe,  and  plans  to  that  end  are  made  with  the 
Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union,  under  the  lead¬ 
ership  of  Miss  Frances  E.  Willard  and  Lady  Henry 
Somerset. 

Thank  God !  there  are  some  things  beyond  the  reach 
of  “  influence  ”  and  better  than  the  madness  for  a 
brown-stone  front.  Gold  cannot  vie  with  virtue,  and 
social  position  does  not  create  manhood.  Trusts  and 
monopolies  only  control  the  lower  things  of  life. 

There  are  men  who  choose  honesty  as  a  soul  compan¬ 
ion.  They  live  in  it,  with  it,  by  it.  They  embody 
it  hi  their  actions  and  lives.  Their  words  speak  it. 
Iheir  faces  beam  it.  Their  actions  proclaim  it.  Theij 


GREATER  THAN  WEALTH. 


231 


hands  are  true  to  it.  Tlieir  feet  tread  its  path.  They 
are  full  of  it.  They  love  it.  It  is  to  them  like  a  God. 
Not  gold,  or  crowns,  or  fame,  could  bribe  them  to  leave 
it.  It  makes  them  beautiful  men,  noble,  great,  brave, 
righteous  men. 

“No  man  has  come  to  true  greatness,”  said  Phillips 
Brooks,  “  who  has  not  felt  in  some  degree  that  his  life 
belongs  to  his  race,  and  that  what  God  gives  him,  He 
gives  him  for  mankind.” 

‘‘The  rank  is  but  the  guinea’s  stamp 
The  man ’s  the  gowd  for  a’  that.” 

“The  noblest  men  that  live  on  earth 
Are  men  whose  hands  are  brown  with  toil, 

Who,  backed  by  no  ancestral  graves, 

Hew  down  the  woods  and  till  the  soil, 

And  win  thereb}'  a  prouder  name 
Than  follows  king’s  or  warrior’s  fame.** 


•  -  ’  *  • 

•• 

•  ■'  ,  ‘ 


..  :  _  .  .  .•  •  '  - 

■  • 


•  :  :  2<;T^ 


f  ' 


£  lUX 


\  :t: 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 

The  gods  sell  anything  and  to  everybody  at  a  fair  price.  —  Emerson. 

To  color  well  requires  your  life.  It  cannot  be  done  cheaper.  —  Ruskin. 

There  is  no  fate!  Between  the  thought  and  the  success,  God  is  the 
only  agent.  —  Bulwer. 

“We  have  but  what  we  make,  and  every  good 
Is  locked  by  nature  in  a  granite  hand, 

Sheer  labor  must  unclench.** 

“  By  hammer  and  hand  all  arts  do  stand.’* 

To  be  thrown  upon  one’s  own  resources  is  to  be  cast  into  the  very  lap  of 
fortune.  —  Franklin. 

Heaven  never  helps  the  man  who  will  not  act.  —  Sophocles. 

The  talent  of  success  is  nothing  more  than  doing  what  you  can  do  well, 
and  doing  well  whatever  you  do,  without  a  thought  of  fame.  — Long¬ 
fellow. 

There  is  no  road  to  success  but  through  a  clear,  strong  purpose.  A 
purpose  underlies  character,  culture,  position,  attainment  of  whatever 
sort.  —  T.  T.  Munger. 

Mankind  worships  success,  but  thinks  too  little  of  the  means  by  which 
it  is  attained,  —  what  days  and  nights  of  watching  and  weariness,  how 
year  after  year  has  dragged  on,  and  seen  the  end  still  far  off;  all  that 
counts  for  little,  if  the  long  struggle  do  not  close  in  victory. — H.  M. 
Field. 

“  What  a  heavenly  mournful  expression !  ”  exclaims 
Miss  Sybil  in  Bulwer’s  “  Kenelm  Chillingly,”  as  she 
gazes  at  the  baby  ;  “  it  seems  so  grieved  to  have  left 
the  angels !  ” 

“That  is  prettily  said,  cousin  Sybil,”  replied  the 
clergyman,  “  but  the  infant  must  pluck  up  courage  and 
fight  its  way  among  mortals  with  a  good  heart,  if  it 
tvants  to  get  back  to  the  angels  again.” 

The  same  principle  obtains  in  the  performance  of 
even  trivial  tasks. 

An  ancient  Greek  thought  to  save  his  bees  a  laborious 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


233 


flight  to  Hymettus.  He  cut  their  wings  and  gathered 
flowers  for  them  to  work  upon  at  home,  but  they  made 
no  honey. 

“  Oh,  if  I  could  thus  put  a  dream  on  canvas !  ”  ex¬ 
claimed  an  enthusiastic  young  artist,  pointing  to  a  most 
beautiful  painting.  “  Dream  on  canvas  !  ”  growled  the 
master,  “  it  is  the  ten  thousand  touches  with  the  brush 
you  must  learn  to  put  on  canvas  that  make  your 
dream.” 

“  Hot  so  very  long  to  do  the  work  itself,”  said  a  great 
artist,  when  asked  the  time  required  to  paint  a  cottage 
scene  with  an  old  woman  trying  to  thread  a  needle  near 
the  open  door,  “  but  it  took  me  twenty  years  to  get  that 
pose  of  the  figure,  and  to  correctly  represent  that  sun¬ 
light  coming  in  at  the  door.” 

“You  charge  me  fifty  sequins,”  said  a  Venetian  noble¬ 
man  to  a  sculptor,  “  for  a  bust  that  cost  you  only  ten 
days’  labor.”  “You  forget,”  said  the  artist,  “that  I 
have  been  thirty  years  learning  to  make  that  bust  in  ten 
days.” 

“  If  only  Milton’s  imagination  could  have  conceived 
his  visions,”  says  Waters,  “his  consummate  industry 
alone  could  have  carved  the  immortal  lines  which  en¬ 
shrine  them.  If  only  Newton’s  mind  could  reach  out  to 
the  secrets,  of  nature,  even  his  genius  could  only  do  it  by 
the  homeliest  toil.  The  works  of  Bacon  are  not  mid- 
summer’s-niglit  dreams,  but,  like  coral  islands,  they 
have  risen  from  the  depths  of  truth,  and  formed  their 
broad  surfaces  above  the  ocean  by  the  minutest  accre¬ 
tions  of  persevering  labor.  The  conceptions  of  Michael 
Angelo  would  have  perished  like  a  night’s  phantasy,  had 
not  his  industry  given  them  permanence.” 

“There  is  but  one  method  of  attaining  excellence,” 
said  Sydney  Smith,  “  and  that  is  hard  labor.” 

The  mottoes  of  great  men  often  give  us  glimpses  of 
the  secret  of  their  characters  and  success.  “Work! 
work  !  work  !  ”  was  the  motto  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 


234 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT \ 


David  Wilkie,  and  scores  of  other  men  who  have  left 
their  mark  upon  the  world.  Voltaire’s  motto  was 
“  Toujours  au  travail”  (always  at  work).  Scott’s 
maxim  was  “Never  be  doing  nothing.”  Michael  An¬ 
gelo  was  a  wonderful  worker.  He  even  slept  in  his 
clothes  ready  to  spring  to  his  work  as  soon  as  he  awoke. 
He  kept  a  block  of  marble  in  his  bedroom  that  he  might 
get  up  in  the  night  and  work  when  he  could  not  sleep. 
His  favorite  device  was  an  old  man  in  a  go-cart,  with  an 
hour-glass  upon  it,  bearing  this  inscription :  “  Ancora  im« 
paro  ”  (still  I ’m  learning).  Even  after  he  was  blind 
he  would  ask  to  be  wheeled  into  the  Belvidere,  to  ex¬ 
amine  the  statues  with  his  hands.  Cobden  used  to  say, 
“  I ’m  working  like  a  horse  without  a  moment  to  spare.” 
It  was  said  that  Handel,  the  musician,  did  the  work  of 
a  dozen  men.  Nothing  ever  daunted  him.  He  feared 
neither  ridicule  nor  defeat.  Lord  Palmerston  worked 
like  a  slave,  even  in  his  old  age.  Being  asked  when  he 
considered  a  man  in  his  prime,  he  replied,  “  Seventy- 
nine,”  that  being  his  own  age.  Humboldt  was  one  of 
the  world’s  great  workers.  In  summer  he  arose  at  four 
in  the  morning  for  thirty  years.  He  used  to  say  work 
was  as  much  of  a  necessity  as  eating  or  sleeping.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  was  a  phenomenal  worker.  He  wrote  the 
“  Wave rley  Novels  ”  at  the  rate  of  twelve,  volumes  a 
year.  He  averaged  a  volume  every  two  months  during 
his  whole  working  life.  What  an  example  is  this  to 
the  young  men  of  to-day,  of  the  possibilities  of  an  ear¬ 
nest  life !  Edmund  Burke  was  one  of  the  most  prodi¬ 
gious  workers  that  ever  lived. 

Daniel  Webster  said,  “I  have  worked  for  more  than 
twelve  hours  a  day  for  fifty  years.”  Charles  J ames  Fox 
became  a  great  orator,  yet  few  people  outside  of  his  per¬ 
sonal  friends  had  any  idea  of  how  he  struggled  to  per¬ 
fect  himself  in  "  the  art  of  all  arts.”  He  never  let  an 
Dpportunity  for  speaking  or  self-culture  pass  unim¬ 
proved.  Henry  Clay  could  have  been  found  almost 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


235 


daily  for  years  in  some  old  Virginia  barn,  declaiming  to 
the  cattle  for  an  audience.  He  said,  “  Never  let  a  day 
go  by  without  exercising  your  power  of  speech.”  Caesar 
controlled  men  by  exciting  their  fear ;  Cicero  by  capti¬ 
vating  their  affections  and  swaying  their  passions  The 
influence  of  one  perished  with  its  author ;  that  of  the 
other  continues  to  this  day.  Beecher  used  to  practice 
speaking  for  years  in  the  woods  and  pastures. 

“  Work  or  starve,”  is  nature’s  motto,  —  and  it  is  writ¬ 
ten  on  the  stars  and  the  sod  alike,  —  starve  mentally, 
starve  morally,  starve  physically.  It  is  an  inexorable 
law  of  nature  that  whatever  is  not  used,  dies.  “  No¬ 
thing  for  nothing,”  is  her  maxim.  If  we  are  idle  and 
shiftless  by  choice,  we  shall  be  nerveless  and  powerless 
by  necessity. 

We  are  the  sum  of  our  endeavors.  “  Our  reward  is 
in  the  race  we  run,  not  in  the  prize.” 

“  I  acquired  all  the  talent  I  have,”  said  J ohn  Sebas¬ 
tian  Bach,  u  by  working  hard ;  and  all  who  like  to  work 
as  hard  will  succeed  just  as  I  have  done.” 

“  What  is  the  secret  of  success  in  business  ?  ”  asked 
a  friend  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt.  iC  Secret !  there  is  no 
secret  about  it,”  replied  the  commodore  ;  “  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  attend  to  your  business  and  go  ahead.”  If 
you  would  adopt  Vanderbilt’s  method,  know  your  busi¬ 
ness,  attend  to  it,  and  keep  down  expenses  until  your 
fortune  is  safe  from  business  perils. 

A  Southern  student  at  Andover  bought  some  wood, 
and  went  to  Professor  Stuart  to  learn  whom  he  could 
get  to  saw  it.  u  I  am  out  of  a  job  of  that  kind,’  said 
Mr.  Stuart;  “  I  will  saw  it  myself.” 

I)o  not  choose  your  life-work  solely  for  the  money 
that  you  can  make  by  it.  It  is  a  contemptible  estimate 
of  an  occupation  to  regard  it  as  a  mere  means  of  making 
a  living.  The  Creator  might  have  given  us  our  bread 
ready-made.  He  might  have  kept  us  in  luxurious  Eder 
forever  $.  but  He  had.  a  grander  and  nobler  end  in  view 


236 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


when  He  created  man,  than  the  mere  satisfaction  of  his 
animal  appetites  and  passions.  There  was  a  divinity 
within  man,  which  the  luxuries  of  Eden  could  never  de¬ 
velop.  There  was  an  inestimable  blessing  in  that  curse 
which  drove  him  from  the  garden,  and  compelled  him 
forever  to  earn  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  It 
was  not  without  significance  that  the  Creator  concealed 
our  highest  happiness  and  greatest  good  beneath  the 
sternest  difficulties,  and  made  their  attainment  condi¬ 
tional  upon  a  struggle  for  existence.  “  Our  motive 
power  is  always  found  in  what  we  lack.”  Never  feel 
above  your  business.  All  legitimate  occupations  are  re¬ 
spectable.  “  The  ploughman  may  be  a  Cincinnatus,  or 
a  Washington,  or  he  may  be  brother  to  the  clod  he 
turns.”  During  the  Revolutionary  War  the  soldiers 
were  trying  to  raise  a  heavy  timber  which  they  could 
scarcely  lift  from  the  ground.  A  young  corporal  stood 
by,  urging  the  men  to  lift  hard,  and  shouting,  “  Now, 
boys,  right  up,”  when  a  superior  officer  rode  up,  dis¬ 
mounted,  and  lifted  with  the  men.  When  the  timber 
was  in  place  the  officer  asked  the  corporal  why  he  did 
not  help.  aI  am  a  corporal,”  he  replied.  “  I  am 
George  Washington,”  responded  the  officer.  “  You  will 
meet  me  at  your  commander’s  headquarters.” 

Depend  upon  it,  there  is  always  something  wrong  j 
about  the  young  man  or  woman  who  looks  upon  manual 
labor  as  degrading.  Manual  labor  was  never  considered 
degrading  until  slavery  came  into  existence. 

“  Laboremus  ”  (we  must  work)  was  the  last  word 
of  the  dying  Emperor  Severus,  as  his  soldiers  gathered 
around  him.  “  Labor,”  “  achievement,”  was  the  great 
Roman  motto,  and  the  secret  of  her  conquest  of  the 
world.  The  greatest  generals  returned  from  their 
triumphs  to  the  plough.  Agriculture  was  held  in  great 
esteem,  and  it  was  considered  the  highest  compliment 
to  call  a  Roman  a  great  agriculturist.  Many  of  their 
family  names  were  derived  from  agricultural  terms,  aa 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


237 


Cicero  from  “  deer,”  a  chick-pea,  and  Fabius  from 
“faba,”  a  bean,  etc.  The  rural  tribes  held  the  fore¬ 
most  rank  in  the  early  days  of  the  Empire.  City  people 
were  regarded  as  an  indolent,  nerveless  race. 

Rome  was  a  mighty  nation  while  industry  led  her 
people,  but  when  her  great  conquest  of  wealth  and 
slaves  placed  her  citizens  above  the  necessity  of  labor, 
that  moment  her  glory  began  to  fade ;  vice  and  corrup¬ 
tion,  induced  by  idleness,  doomed  the  proud  city  to  an 
ignominious  history.  Cicero,  Rome’s  great  orator  and 
statesman,  said:  “All  artisans  are  engaged  in  a  dis¬ 
graceful  occupation ; ”  and  Aristotle,  a  stranger  to 
Christian  philosophy,  said  :  “  The  best  regulated  cities 

will  not  permit  a  mechanic  to  be  a  citizen,  for  it  is  im¬ 
possible  for  one  who  leads  the  life  of  a  mechanic,  or 
hired  servant,  to  practice  a  life  of  virtue.  Some  were 
born  to  be  slaves.”  But  fortunately,  there  came  One 
mightier  than  Rome,  Cicero,  or  Aristotle,  whose  magnifi¬ 
cent  life  and  example  forever  lifted  the  ban  from  labor, 
and  redeemed  it  from  disgrace.  He  gives  significance 
to  labor  and  dignity  to  the  most  menial  service.  Christ 
did  not  say,  “  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  pleasure-hunters,  ye 
indolent,  and  ye  lazy ;  ”  but,  “  Come  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy  laden.”  A  noble  manhood  or  womanhood 
will  lift  any  legitimate  calling  into  respectability. 

It  is  manhood  nature  is  after,  not  money  or  fame. 
Oh,  what  price  will  she  not  pay  for  a  man !  Ages  and 
aeons  were  nothing  for  her  to  spend  in  preparing  for 
his  coming,  or  in  making  his  existence  possible.  She 
has  rifled  the  centuries  for  his  development,  and  placed 
the  universe  at  his  disposal.  The  world  is  but  his  kin¬ 
dergarten,  and  every  created  thing  but  an  object-lesson 
from  the  unseen  universe.  Nature  resorts  to  a  thousand 
expedients  to  develop  a  perfect  type  of  her  grandest 
creation.  To  do  this  she  must  induce  him  to  fight  his 
way  up  to  his  own  loaf.  She  never  allows  him  once  to 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  struggle  to  attain 


238 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


that  develops  the  man.  The  moment  we  put  our  hand 
upon  that  which  looks  attractive  at  a  distance,  and  which 
we  struggle  so  hard  to  reach,  nature  robs  it  of  its  charm 
by  holding  up  before  us  another  prize  still  more  attrac¬ 
tive.  The  toy  which  the  child  could  not  be  induced  to 
give  up,  he  forsakes  willingly  when  he  sees  the  orange. 
So  we  relinquish  one  prize  to  pursue  another,  but  with 
the  added  strength,  developed  in  the  struggle  to  attain 
the  last. 

Nature  has  left  man  in  this  unstable  equilibrium, 
lest  the  satisfaction  from  the  possession  of  that  which 
he  struggled  so  hard  to  get  rob  him  of  his  ambition  for 
new  conquests.  The  struggle  to  obtain  is  the  great 
gymnasium  of  the  race.  Nature  puts  pleasure  in  the 
acquisition  of  that  which  the  heart  covets,  but  the  mo¬ 
ment  we  place  our  hand  upon  the  prize,  the  charm 
vanishes  ;  its  usefulness  is  gone  ;  it  can  develop  no 
more  character,  no  more  stamina,  no  more  manhood. 
What  if  — 

“That  which  shone  afar  so  grand 
Turns  to  ashes  in  the  hand  ? 

On  again  ;  the  virtue  lies 

In  the  struggle,  not  in  the  prize.’* 

Labor  is  the  great  schoolmaster  of  the  race.  It  is 
the  grand  drill  in  life’s  army,  without  which  we  are 
only  confused  and  powerless  when  called  into  action. 
What  a  teacher  industry  is  !  It  calls  us  away  from  con¬ 
ventional  instructors,  books,  and  theories,  and  brings 
us  into  the  world’s  great  school  —  into  actual  contact 
with  men  and  things.  The  perpetual  attrition  of  mind 
upon  mind  rasps  off  the  rough  edges  of  unpractical  life 
and  gives  polish  to  character.  It  teaches  patience, 
perseverance,  forbearance,  and  application.  It  teaches 
method  and  system,  by  compelling  us  to  crowd  the 
most  possible  into  every  day  and  hour.  Industry  is  a 
perpetual  call  upon  the  judgment,  the  power  of  quick 
decision ;  it  makes  ready  men,  practical  men. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


239 


"To  have  any  chance  of  success,  I  must  be  more 
steady  than  other  men/’  Lord  Campbell  wrote  to  his 
father  as  an  excuse  for  not  visiting  home  ;  "  I  must  be 
in  chambers  when  they  are  at  the  theatre ;  I  must 
study  when  they  are  asleep ;  I  must,  above  all,  remain 
in  town  when  they  are  in  the  country.” 

Why  does  a  bit  of  canvas  with  the  "  Angelus  ”  on  it 
bring  one  hundred  and  twenty -five  thousand  dollars, 
while  that  of  another  artist  brings  but  a  dollar  ?  Be¬ 
cause  Millet  put  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars’  worth  of  brains  and  labor  into  his  canvas,  while 
the  other  man  put  only  a  dollar’s  worth  into  his. 
Work  is  worthless  unless  mixed  with  brains. 

A  blacksmith  makes  five  dollars’  worth  of  iron  into 
horseshoes,  and  gets  ten  dollars  for  them.  The  cutler 
makes  the  same  iron  into  knives,  and  gets  two  hundred 
dollars.  The  machinist  makes  the  same  iron  into  nee¬ 
dles,  and  gets  sixty-eight  hundred  dollars.  The  watch¬ 
maker  takes  it  and  makes  it  into  mainsprings,  and  gets 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  ;  or  into  hair-springs,  and 
gets  two  million  dollars,  sixty  times  the  value  of  the 
same  weight  of  gold. 

So  it  is  with  our  life  material  which  is  given  us  at 
birth.  Do  something  with  it  we  must.  We  cannot 
throw  it  away,  for  even  idleness  leaves  its  curse  upon 
it.  One  young  man  works  his  up  into  objects  of  beauty 
and  utility.  He  mixes  brains  with  it.  Another  botches 
and  spoils  his  without  purpose  or  aim  until,  perhaps 
late  in  life,  he  comes  to  his  senses  and  tries  to  patch  up 
the  broken  and  wasted  pieces  ;  but  it  is  a  sorry  apology 
to  leave,  in  payment  for  a  life  of  magnificent  possibili¬ 
ties. 

"Why,  my  lord,”  said  a  flippant  English  clergyman 
to  the  Bishop  of  Litchfield,  "it  is  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world  to  preach.  Why,  very  often,  I  choose  my 
text  after  I  go  into  the  pulpit,  and  then  go  on  and 
preach  a  sermon,  and  think  nothing  of  it.”  "  Ah,  yes,” 


240 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


said  the  bishop,  “that  agrees  exactly  with  what  I  heal 
your  people  say,  for  they  hear  the  sermon,  and  they, 
too,  think  nothing  of  it.” 

The  world  is  full  of  just-a-going-to-bes,  —  subjunctive 
heroes  who  might,  could,  would,  or  should  be  this  or 
that  but  for  certain  obstacles  or  discouragements, — 
prospectuses  which  never  become  published  works. 
They  all  long  for  success,  but  they  want  it  at  a  dis¬ 
count.  The  “one  price”  for  all  is  too  high.  They 
covet  the  golden  round  in  the  ladder,  but  they  do  not 
like  to  climb  the  difficult  steps  by  which  alone  it  can  be 
reached.  They  long  for  victory,  but '  shrink  from  the 
fight.  They  are  forever  looking  for  soft  places  and 
smooth  surfaces  where  there  will  be  the  least  resistance, 
forgetting  that  the  very  friction  which  retards  the  train 
upon  the  track,  and  counteracts  a  fourth  of  all  the  en¬ 
gine’s  power,  is  essential  to  its  locomotion.  Grease  the 
track,  and,  though  the  engine  puffs  and  the  wheels  re¬ 
volve,  the  train  will  not  move  an  inch. 

Work  is  difficult  in  proportion  as  the  end  to  be 
attained  is  high  and  noble.  God  has  put  the  highest 
price  upon  the  greatest  worth.  If  a  man  would  reach 
the  highest  success  he  must  pay  the  price  himself.  No 
titled  pedigree,  no  money  inherited  from  ancestors  with 
long  bank  accounts,  can  be  given  in  exchange  for  this 
commodity.  He  must  be  self-made  or  never  made. 

The  Bomans  arranged  the  seats  in  their  two  temples 
to  Virtue  and  Honor,  so  that  no  one  could  enter  the 
second  without  passing  through  the  first.  Such  is  the 
order  of  advance,  —  Virtue,  Toil,  Honor. 

All  would  like  to  succeed,  but  this  is  not  enough. 
Who  would  be  satisfied  with  the  success  which  may  be 
had  for  the  wishing  ?  You  can  have  what  you  desire, 
if  you  will  pay  the  price.  But  how  much  do  you  want 
to  succeed  ?  Will  you  pay  the  price  ?  How  eager  are 
you  to  strive  for  success  ?  How  much  can  you  endure  ? 
How  long  can  you  wait  ? 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


241 


Do  you  long  for  an  education  ?  Would  you,  if  neces¬ 
sary,  wear  threadbare  clothes  in  college,  and  board 
yourself?  Would  you,  like  Thurlow  Weed,  study 
nights  by  the  light  of  a  camp-fire  in  a  sugar-orchard  ? 
Would  you  walk  through  the  snow  two  miles,  with 
pieces  of  rag  carpet  tied  about  your  feet  for  shoes,  that 
you  might,  like  him,  borrow  a  coveted  book  ?  Have  you 
the  stamina  to  go  on  with  your  studies  when  too  poor 
to  buy  bread,  and  when  you  can  appease  the  pangs  of 
hunger  only  by  tying  tighter  and  tighter  about  your 
body  a  girdle,  as  did  Samuel  Drew  or  Kitto  ?  Would 
you,  like  John  Scott,  rise  at  four  and  study  until  ten  or 
eleven  at  night,  tying  a  wet  towel  around  your  head  to 
keep  awake  ;  would  you,  when  too  poor  to  buy  books, 
borrow  and  copy  three  folio  volumes  of  precedents,  and 
the  whole  of  Coke  on  Littleton,  with  the  boy  who  be¬ 
came  Lord  Eldon  ?  Would  you  be  disheartened  by 
Wilberforce’s  suggestion  to  a  student  of  law:  “You 
must  make  up  your  mind  to  live  like  a  hermit  and  work 
like  a  horse  ”  ?  Can  you  eat  sawdust  without  butter, 
as  the  great  lawyer,  Chitty,  asked  the  young  man  who 
came  to  him  for  advice  about  studying  law  ?  Have  you 
the  determination  that  would  hammer  an  education 
from  the  stone-quarry,  with  Hugh  Miller ;  the  patience 
that  would  spend  a  lifetime  tracing  the  handwriting  of 
the  Creator  down  through  the  ages  in  the  strata  of  the 
rocks  ?  Would  you  work  on  a  farm  for  twelve  long 
years  for  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  six  sheep,  with  Henry 
Wilson  ?  Do  you  love  learning  well  enough  to  walk 
forty  miles  to  obtain  a  book  you  could  not  afford  to 
buy,  with  Abraham  Lincoln  ?  Not  that  we  would 
recommend  such  extreme  measures ;  but  if  you  saw  no 
way  open  except  such  as  was  traveled  by  these  and 
many  other  great  men,  would  you  be  equal  to  the  stern 
ordeal,  and  learn  from  experience  that  “  the  royal  road 
to  learning  ”  is  a  myth,  and  that  the  real  road  is  one 
that  tears  the  brow  with  its  thorns,  and  exhausts  the 

heart  with  its  disappointments  ? 

*  '   ~~  - 


242 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Would  you  be  an  orator  and  sway  the  minds  of  men  ? 
Would  you  train  your  voice  for  months  on  the  sea* 
shore  with  only  the  wild  waves  for  your  audience,  with 
Demosthenes  ?  Would  you,  like  him,  cure  yourself 
of  a  peculiar  shrug  by  practicing  with  naked  shoulders 
under  the  sharp  points  of  suspended  swords  ?  Could 
you  stand  calm  and  unmoved  in  Faneuil  Hall,  amid 
hisses  and  showers  of  rotten  eggs,  with  Wendell  Phil¬ 
lips  ?  Have  you  the  stamina  that  would  keep  you  on 
your  feet  in  Parliament  with  a  Disraeli  when  every 
sentence  is  hailed  with  derisive  laughter  ?  Could  you 
stand  your  ground,  as  he  did,  until  you  had  compelled 
the  applause  of  “  the  first  gentlemen  in  the  world  ”  ? 
Have  you  the  determination  that  carried  Curran  again 
and  again  to  speak  in  that  august  Parliament  from 
which  he  had  been  so  often  hissed  ?  Would  you  perse¬ 
vere,  like  Savonarola,  Cobden,  Sheridan,  and  scores  of 
others  who  broke  down  completely  at  their  first  at¬ 
tempts,  in  spite  of  repeated  and  ignominious  failures  ? 
If,  like  Daniel  Webster,  you  could  not  manage  to  de¬ 
claim  throughout  your  whole  school  course,  could  you 
still  find  courage  to  become  a  public  speaker  ?  Would 
you  black  boots  for  the  students  at  Oxford  with  George 
Whitefield  ?  Would  you,  like  Beecher,  begin  preaching 
in  a  church  of  nineteen  members  in  an  obscure  town 
in  Indiana,  and  act  as  sexton,  janitor,  and  minister  ? 
Would  you,  like  Anna  Dickinson,  face  the  jeers  and 
hisses,  and  even  the  pistol-bullets  of  the  Molly  -Ma¬ 
guires  ?  Would  you  preach  Christ  and  Him  crucified 
amid  the  scorn  of  skeptics,  the  pangs  of  martyrdom  ? 

Do  you  yearn  to  be  an  artist,  and  transfer  to  canvas 
or  set  free  from  marble  the  beauty  which  haunts  your 
soul  ?  Would  you  join  Michael  Angelo  in  carrying 
mortar  for  the  frescoers  up  long  ladders,  to  catch  some 
suggestions  from  their  words  or  work  ? 

Would  you,  at  sixty-five,  while  the  pope  yet  sleeps, 
don  your  overalls  and  dig  your  own  ochre  in  the  rear  of 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS .  243 

the  Vatican,  and  devote  your  whole  day  to  your  art? 
Could  you  work  patiently  for  seven  long  years  decora¬ 
ting  the  Sistine  Chapel  with  the  “  Story  of  the  Crea^ 
tion  ”  and  the  immortal  “  Last  Judgment  ”  ?  ‘  Would 
you  refuse  remuneration  for  this  work,  lest  you  be 
swerved  from  the  ideal  dominating  your  soul  ?  Would 
you  rise  at  dead  of  night,  seize  hammer  and  chisel,  and 
call  from  the  rough  marble  the  angel  which  haunts  your 
dreams  and  will  not  let  you  sleep  ? 

Would  you  excel  in  literature  ?  Would  not  the  dread 
of  rejected  manuscript,  returned  with  thanks,  dishearten 
you  after  you  had  given  it  years  of  your  ripest  thought 
and  great  sacrifice  ?  Are  you  willing  to  live  unre¬ 
cognized  and  die  unknown  ?  You  would  have  written 
Shakespeare’s  plays,  but  could  you  wait  two  hundred 
years  for  recognition,  and  die  without  even  receiving 
mention  from  your  greatest  contemporary  ?  Would 
you  pay  Goethe’s  price  for  distinction?  “Each  bon 
mot  of  mine,”  said  he,  “  has  cost  a  purse  of  gold.  Half 
a  million  of  my  own  money,  the  fortune  I  inherited,  my 
salary,  and  the  large  income  derived  from  my  writings 
for  fifty  years  back,  have  been  expended  to  instruct  me 
in  what  I  know.”  Would  you  have  laboriously  created 
and  dictated  “  Paradise  Lost  ”  in  a  world  you  could  not 
see,  and  then  sell  it  for  fifteen  pounds,  in  an  age  in  which 
a  learned  London  critic  could  say  :  “  The  blind  school¬ 
master  has  written  a  tedious  poem  on  ‘The  Fall  of 
Man,’  and  unless  length  has  merit,  it  has  none  ”  ? 
Would  not  the  grating  of  the  jail  door  and  the  long 
nights  in  a  dungeon  dampen  your  ardor  for  the  author¬ 
ship  of  even  the  immortal  “  Pilgrim’s  Progress  ”  ? 
Would  you  endure  the  agonies  of  a  De  Quincey  in  order 
to  write  his  matchless  visions  and  analyses  ?  Would 
you  live  on  the  border-land  of  want  and  woe  and  tempta¬ 
tion  for  many  years,  with  Poe,  even  for  the  sake  of 
pioneering  human  thought  into  unexplored  regions  of 
weird  and  mystic  speculation,  of  exquisite,  ethereal 


244 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


beauty  ?  Would  you  endure  the  misery  of  Cowper  that 
you  might  wail  your  anguish  in  song,  or  dally  with  the 
story  of  the  inimitable  John  Gilpin  ?  Could  you,  with 
Euripides,  be  content  to  devote  three  days  to  five  lines, 
that  those  lines  might  live  centuries  after  your  language 
had  ceased  to  be  spoken  ?  Could  you  have  the  patience 
and  perseverance  of  Moore,  that  you  might  produce  ten 
immortal  lines  a  day  ?  Could  you  have  the  persistence 
of  Isaac  Newton,  who,  after  spending  long  years  on  an 
intricate  calculation,  had  his  papers  destroyed  by  his 
dog  Diamond,  and  then  cheerfully .  began  to  replace 
them  ?  Have  you  the  courage  of  Carlyle,  who,  after  he 
had  lent  the  manuscript  of  the  “  French  Devolution  ”  to 
a  friend,  whose  servant  carelessly  used  it  to  kindle  the 
fire,  calmly  went  to  work  and  rewrote  it  ?  Would  you 
wheel  supplies  in  a  barrow  through  the  streets  of  Phil¬ 
adelphia,  with  a  Franklin  ? 

Would  you  be  a  soldier  ?  Could  you,  like  Napoleon, 
wait  for  an  appointment  seven  years  after  you  had  pre¬ 
pared  yourself  thoroughly,  and  use  all  your  enforced 
leisure  in  further  intense  study  ?  Could  you,  while 
losing  nine  battles  out  of  every  ten,  still  press  on  with 
an  iron  determination  which  would  win  you  Bliicher’s 
title  of  “  Marshal  Forward  ”  ?  Could  you,  while  losing 
more  battles  than  you  won,  go  on  with  Washington  and 
conquer  by  the  power  of  your  character  ? 

Would  you  bless  your  race  by  inventions  or  discov¬ 
eries  ?  Could  you  cheerfully  earn  the  means  to  carry 
on  your  experiments  by  working  in  Diehard  Arkwright’s 
barber-shop  in  a  basement,  with  this  sign  over  your 
door:  “Come  to  the  Subterraneous  Barber  —  a  Clean 
Shave  for  a  Halfpenny  ”  ?  Could  you  plod  on  with  en¬ 
thusiasm  after  seeing  a  mob  tear  down  the  mill  you  had 
erected  for  the  employment  of  your  machinery  ?  Is 
incessant  labor  for  fifteen  weary  years  too  great  a  price 
to  pay  for  George  Stephenson’s  first  successful  locomo¬ 
tive  ?  Is  thirty  years  too  long  to  spend  with  Watt 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS.  245 

amid  want  and  woe  in  perfecting  the  condensing  engine  ? 
Is  your  determination  strong  enough  to  carry  you  to  the 
verge  of  ruin,  time  and  again,  and  to  enable  you  when 
your  credit  is  exhausted,  and  your  wife  has  turned 
against  you,  to  burn  the  palings  of  your  fence  and  the 
furniture  and  floor  of  your  house,  and  then  add  the 
shelves  of  your  pantry  to  the  fire  which  develops  an 
enamel  like  Palissy’s  ?  If  cast  into  prison,  could  you 
experiment  with  the  straw  in  your  cell,  with  Galileo  ? 
Can  you  lie  more  than  once  in  a  debtor’s  prison  and  live 
on  charity  much  of  the  time,  for  ten  years,  to  win  the 
triumph  of  Goodyear,  whose  friend  could  truthfully 
say :  “  If  you  see  a  man  with  an  India-rubber  coat  on, 
India-rubber  shoes,  and  India-rubber  cap,  and  in  his 
pocket  an  India-rubber  purse,  with  not  a  cent  in  it,  that 
is  Goodyear  ”  ?  Could  you  have  the  heart  to  perfect  an 
invention  beyond  almost  any  other  at  its  first  introduc¬ 
tion,  only  to  find  with  Eli  Whitney  or  Elias  Howe,  that 
those  whom  it  was  intended  to  bless  refused  to  use  it  at 
first,  and  later  tried  to  steal  it  ? 

Could  you  wait  eight  years  for  a  patent  on  telegraphy 
with  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse,  and  then  almost  fight  for  a 
chance  to  introduce  it  ?  Could  you  invent  a  hay-tedder, 
and  then  pay  a  farmer  for  trying  it  on  his  hay,  because 
he  said  it  would  “  knock  the  seeds  off  ”  ?  Would  you, 
after  inventing  McCormick’s  reaper,  have  the  persist¬ 
ence  to  introduce  it  into  England  amid  the  ridicule  of 
the  press,  the  “London  Times”  calling  it  “a  cross  be¬ 
tween  an  Astley  chariot,  a  wheelbarrow,  and  a  flying 
machine”  ?  Would  you  live  in  the  woods  for  years  to 
reproduce  Audubon’s  drawings  of  North  American  birds, 
after  they  had  been  destroyed  by  Norway  rats,  or  toil 
over  Alps  and  Andes  with  Agassiz,  or  go  with  Pliny  to 
describe  the  volcano,  Mt.  Vesuvius,  that  was  to  destroy 
your  life  ?  Would  your  passion  for  art  give  you  nerve 
like  that  of  Vernet  to  sketch  the  towering  wave  on  the 
Mediterranean  that  threatened  to  engulf  your  vessel  ? 


246 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Would  your  patience  suffice  to  practice  on  Handel’s 
harpsichord  in  secret  until  every  key  was  hollowed  by 
your  fingers  to  resemble  the  bowl  of  a  spoon  ?  If  a 
physician,  would  you  inoculate  yourself  with  a  yellow- 
fever  or  cholera  bacillus,  to  test  its  power  ?  Would  you 
take  three  grains  of  opium  to  test  the  power  of  a  new 
antidote  you  believed  you  had  discovered,  permanga¬ 
nate  of  potash  ? 

In  politics,  could  you  persevere  to  be  a  candidate 
sixteen  times  in  vain,  to  be  elected  Governor  Marcus 
Morton  of  Massachusetts  in  1840  by  a  majority  of  but 
one  vote  ?  Could  you  endure  the  most  bitter  persecu¬ 
tion  for  years,  to  rank  with  William  Lloyd  Garrison  as 
a  benefactor  of  an  unfortunate  race  ?  After  acquiring 
fortune,  could  you  give  up  your  well-earned  leisure, 
devote  years  of  almost  hopeless  drudgery,  and  risk  all 
your  wealth,  amid  the  scoffs  of  men,  in  a  seemingly 
futile  attempt  to  bind  two  continents  together  by  an 
electric  cord,  with  Cyrus  W.  Field  ? 

Success  is  the  child  of  drudgery  and  perseverance. 
Fame  never  comes  because  it  is  craved. 

If  you  are  built  of  such  material  as  this,  you  will 
succeed  ;  if  not,  in  spite  of  all  your  dreams  and  wishes 
you  will  fail.  Most  people  look  upon  poverty  as  bad 
fortune,  and  forget  that  it  has  ever  been  the  priceless 
spur  in  nearly  all  great  achievements,  all  down  the 
ages. 

Jean  Paul  Richter,  who  suffered  greatly  from  pov¬ 
erty,  said  that  he  would  not  have  been  rich  for  worlds. 

“  How  unfortunate  it  is  for  a  boy  to  have  rich  par¬ 
ents,”  said  James  Gordon  Bennett  to  George  W. 
Childs.  “  If  you  and  I  had  been  born  that  way,  we 
would  never  have  done  anything  worth  mentioning.” 

“I  began  life  with  a  sixpence,”  said  Girard,  “and 
believe  that  a  man’s  best  capital  is  his  industry.” 

How  nature  laughs  at  puny  society  caste,  and  at  at 
tempts  to  confine  greatness  behind  brown-stone  fronts  J 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


247 


She  drops  an  idiot  on  Fifth  Avenue  or  Beacon  Street, 
where  a  millionaire  looked  for  a  Webster  or  a  Sumner, 
and  leaves  a  Garfield  in  a  log-cabin  in  the  wilderness, 
where  humble  parents  expected  only  a  pioneer.  She 
astonishes  a  poor  blacksmith  with  a  Burritt,  and  gives 
a  dunce  to  a  wealthy  banker.  A  fool  may  be  born  in  a 
palace,  and  the  Saviour  of  the  world  in  a  stable.  Truly 
royal  men  and  women  look  out  of  cold  and  miserable 
attic  windows,  from  factories  and  poorhouses,  upon 
people  much  their  inferiors,  though  dressed  in  broad¬ 
cloths  and  satins,  whose  dishonesty  and  craft  have 
overcome  them  in  the  battle  of  life. 

What  an  army  of  young  men  enters  the  success- 
contest  every  year  as  raw  recruits !  Many  of  them  are 
country  youths  flocking  to  the  cities  to  buy  success. 
Their  young  ambitions  have  been  excited  by  some 
book,  or  fired  by  the  story  of  some  signal  success,  and 
they  dream  of  becoming  As  tors  or  Girards,  Stewarts 
or  Wanamakers,  Vanderbilts  or  Goulds,  Lincolns  or 
Garfields,  until  their  innate  energy  impels  them  to  try 
their  own  fortune  in  the  magic  metropolis.  But  what 
are  you  willing  to  pay  for  “success,”  as  you  call  it, 
young  man  ?  Do  you  realize  what  that  word  means  in 
a  great  city  in  the  nineteenth  century,  where  men  grow 
gray  at  thirty  and  die  of  old  age  at  forty,  —  where 
the  race  of  life  has  become  so  intense  that  the  runners 
are  treading  on  the  heels  of  those  before  them ;  and 
u  woe  to  him  who  stops  to  tie  his  shoestring  ”  ?  Do 
you  know  that  only  two  or  three  out  of  every  hundred 
will  ever  win  permanent  success,  and  only  because  they 
have  kept  everlastingly  at  it ;  and  that  the  rest  will 
sooner  or  later  fail  and  many  die  in  poverty  because 
they  have  given  up  the  struggle  ? 

It  is  said  of  the  young  men  who  entered  business  on 
State  Street,  Boston,  forty  years  ago,  that  even  their 
names  are  almost  forgotten.  Most  of  them  were  killed 
in  the  fierce  struggle  of  competition. 


248 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Read  the  diary  of  an  old  man  on  Long  Wharf, 
Boston,  where  the  battle  waged  less  fiercely :  “  Of  all 

I  knew  in  business,  only  five  have  succeeded  in  forty 
years.  All  the  others  failed  or  died  in  want.”  Of  a 
thousand  depositors  in  the  Union  Bank,  all  but  six 
failed  or  died  poor.  “  Bankruptcy,”  said  one  of  the 
old  bank  directors,  “  is  like  death  and  almost  as  certain 
They  fall  single  and  alone,  and  are  thus  forgotten 
but  there  is  no  escape,  and  he  is  fortunate  who  fails 
young.”  In  Pemberton  Square  among  the  lawyers,  an 
old  friend  of  Rufus  Choate  and  Daniel  Webster  tells 
us  there  are  two  thousand  attorneys  in  Boston,  and 
only  four  hundred  get  a  living  by  their  profession,  and 
only  now  and  then  one  becomes  distinguished. 

In  a  work  on  business,  published  in  eighteen  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty-two,  Edwin  T.  Freedley  gave  a  select 
list  of  the  first-class  wholesale  houses  in  Philadelphia. 
On  reexamining  the  list  twenty-three  years  later,  he 
found  but  two  out  of  seventeen  of  the  importing  firms 
he  had  mentioned;  two  out  of  twenty-two  dry  goods 
houses ;  four  out  of  twenty-five  dry  goods  jobbing 
houses ;  nine  of  the  silk  firms ;  eight  out  of  twenty-five 
drug  houses ;  one  out  of  seventeen  boot  and  shoe  job¬ 
bers  ;  and  a  total  of  only  twenty-five  out  of  the  one 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  wholesale  firms  he  had  con¬ 
sidered  the  most  solid  in  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love. 
The  thought  of  this  cold  reality  is  appalling,  and  we 
almost  shrink  from  effort  when  success  seems  so  much 
iike  a  lottery  with  very  few  prizes. 

But  he  who  would  succeed  must  pay  the  price.  He 
must  not  look  for  a  “soft  job.”  Into  work  which  he 
feels  to  be  a  part  of  his  very  existence  he  must  pour  his 
whole  heart  and  soul.  He  must  be  fired  by  a  deter¬ 
mination  which  knows  no  defeat,  which  cares  not  for 
hunger  or  ridicule,  which  spurns  hardships  and  laughs 
at  want  and  disaster.  They  were  not  men  of  luck  and 
broadcloth,  nor  of  legacy  and  laziness,  but  men  inured 


THE  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS. 


249 


to  hardship  and  deprivation,  — ■  not  afraid  of  threadbare 
clothes  and  honest  poverty,  men  who  fought  their  way 
to  their  own  loaf,  —  who  have  pushed  the  world  up 
from  chaos  into  the  light  of  the  highest  civilization. 
They  were  men  who,  as  they  climbed,  expanded  and 
lifted  others  to  a  higher  plane  and  opened  wider  the 
doors  of  narrow  lives. 

If  thou  canst  plan  a  noble  deed, 

And  never  flag  till  it  succeed, 

Though  in  the  strife  thy  heart  should  bleed  ; 

Whatever  obstacles  control, 

Thine  hour  will  come,  — go  on,  true  soul, 

Thou  ’It  win  the  prize,  — thou ’It  reach  the  goal. 

Charles  Mackay. 

tfo  pain,  no  palm  ;  no  thorns,  no  throne;  no  gall,  no  glory;  no  cross, 
no  crown.  —  Penn. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 

Character ‘is  power  —  is  influence;  it  makes  friends ;  creates  funds  { 
draws  patronage  and  support  ;  and  opens  a  sure  and  easy  way  to  wealtl  j 
honor,  and  happiness.  —  J.  Hawes. 

When  all  have  done  their  utmost,  surely  he 
Hath  given  the  best  who  gives  a  character 
Erect  and  constant. 

Lowell. 

I  *m  called  away  by  particular  business,  but  I  leave  my  character  be¬ 
hind  me.  —  Sheridan. 

As  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  great  but  man,  there  is  nothing  truly 
great  in  man  but  character.  —  W.  M.  Evarts. 

The  spirit  of  a  single  mind 

Makes  that  of  multitudes  take  one  direction, 

As  roll  the  waters  to  the  breathing  wind.  Byron. 

Character  must  stand  behind  and  back  up  everything  —  the  sermon,  the 
poem,  the  picture,  the  pla}r.  None  of  them  is  worth  a  straw  without  it. — 
J.  G.  Holland. 

The  alleged  power  to  charm  down  insanity,  or  ferocity  in  beasts,  is  a 
power  behind  the  eye.  —  Emerson. 

Character  is  the  diamond  that  scratches  every  other  stone.  —  Bartol. 

“  Darest  thou  kill  Caius  Marius  ?  ”  said  the  unarmed 
Roman  to  the  assassin  sent  to  his  dungeon.  The  Cim- 
brian  quailed  before  the  captive’s  eye,  dropped  his 
weapon,  and  fled. 

Learning  that  Napoleon  would  soon  pass  alone 
through  a  long  dim  passage,  a  young  man  hid  there  to 
slay  the  ruthless  invader  of  his  country.  As  the  em¬ 
peror  approached,  his  massive  head  bowed  in  thought, 
the  young  man  raised  his  weapon,  took  careful  aim,  and 
was  about  to  press  the  trigger  when  a  slight  noise  be¬ 
trayed  his  presence.  Napoleon  looked  up,  and  compre¬ 
hended  the  situation  at  a  glance.  He  did  not  speak, 
but  gazed  intently  upon  the  youth,  a  smile  of  haughty 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


251 


challenge  upon  his  face.  The  weapon  fell  from  nerve¬ 
less  hands,  and  the  hero  of  a  hundred  fields  passed  on 
in  silence,  his  head  again  bowed  in  meditation  upon 
affairs  of  state.  To  him  it  was  but  one  incident  in  a 
crowded  career,  a  mere  personal  triumph  soon  lost  sight 
of  amid  memories  of  battles  which  shook  the  world 
with  the  thunder  of  his  victorious  legions.  To  the 
young  man  it  was  the  experience  of  a  lifetime,  a  crush¬ 
ing,  bewildering  sense  of  his  own  inferiority  in  compar¬ 
ison  with  the  enormous,  ponderous  weight  of  character 
of  a  man  who  threw  every  fibre  and  faculty  and  power 
of  his  being  into  the  life  he  was  living.  As  well  might 
the  glowworm  match  himself  against  the  lightning  ! 

“  Let  a  king  and  a  beggar  converse  freely  together,” 
said  Bulwer,  “  and  it  is  the  beggar’s  fault  if  he  does 
not  say  something  which  makes  the  king  lift  his  hat  to 
him.”  What  is  that  to  which  the  king  would  make  obei¬ 
sance  ?  Information  ?  No.  He  would  not  lift  his 
hat  to  that.  Is  there  not  something  which  the  poorest 
and  humblest  may  have  in  equal  or  greater  proportion 
than  the  monarch  —  manliness?  We  admire  wisdom, 
but  we  bow  our  heads  before  a  man,  whether  he  be  a 
child  of  misfortune  or  a  king. 

“Be  you  only  whole  and  sufficient,”  says  Emerson, 
“  and  I  shall  feel  you  in  every  part  of  my  life  and  for¬ 
tune,  and  I  can  as  easily  dodge  the  gravitation  of  the 
globe  as  escape  your  influence.”  Character  is  power. 

“No,  say  what  you  have  to  say  in  her  presence,  too,” 
said  King  Cleomenes  of  Sparta,  when  his  visitor 
Anistagoras  asked  him  to  send  away  his  little  daughter 
Gorgo,  ten  years  old,  knowing  how  much  harder  it  is  to 
persuade  a  man  to  do  wrong  when  his  child  is  at  his 
side.  So  Gorgo  sat  at  her  father’s  feet,  and  listened 
while  the  stranger  offered  more  and  more  money  if 
Cleomenes  would  aid  him  to  become  king  in  a  neighbor¬ 
ing  country.  She  did  not  understand  the  matter,  but 
when  she  saw  her  father  look  troubled  and  hesitate^ 


252 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


she  took  hold  of  his  hand  and  said,  “  Papa,  come  away 
. —  come,  or  this  strange  man  will  make  you  do  wrong.” 
The  king  went  away  with  the  child,  and  saved  himself 
and  his  country  from  dishonor.  Character  is  power, 
even  in  a  child.  When  grown  to  womanhood,  Gorgo 
was  married  to  the  hero  Leonidas.  One  day  a  messen¬ 
ger  brought  a  tablet  sent  by  a  friend  who  was  a  prisoner 
in  Persia.  But  the  closest  scrutiny  failed  to  reveal  a 
single  word  or  line  on  the  white  waxen  surface,  and 
the  king  and  all  his  noblemen  concluded  that  it  was 
sent  as  a  jest.  “  Let  me  take  it,”  said  Queen  Gorgo  ; 
and,  after  looking  it  all  over,  she  exclaimed,  “  There 
must  be  some  writing  underneath  the  wax !  ”  They 
scraped  away  the  wax  and  found  a  warning  to  Leonidas 
from  the  Grecian  prisoner,  saying  that  Xerxes  was 
coming  with  his  immense  host  to  conquer  all  Greece. 
Acting  on  this  warning  Leonidas  and  the  other  kings 
assembled  their  armies  and  checked  the  mighty  host  of 
Xerxes,  which  is  said  to  have  shaken  the  earth  as  it 
marched. 

During  the  Revolutionary  War,  Richard  Jackson 
was  accused  of  an  intention  to  join  the  British  army, 
and  admitted  the  truth  of  the  charge.  He  was  com¬ 
mitted  to  the  rude  county  jail,  from  which  he  could 
have  escaped  easily ;  but  he  considered  himself  held  by 
due  process  of  law,  and  his  sense  of  duty  forbade  flight 
under  such  circumstances. 

He  asked  leave  of  the  sheriff  to  go  out  and  work  by 
day,  promising  to  return  each  night.  Consent  was 
given  readily,  as  his  character  for  simple  honesty  was 
well  known,  and  for  eight  months  he  went  out  each 
morning  and  returned  at  evening.  At  length  the  sher¬ 
iff  prepared  to  take  him  to  Springfield,  to  be  tried  for 
high  treason.  Jackson  said  this  would  be  needless 
trouble  and  expense,  for  he  could  go  just  as  well  alone. 
Again  his  word  was  taken,  and  he  set  off  alone.  On  the 
way  he  was  overtaken  by  Mr.  Edwards  of  the  council 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


258 


of  Massachusetts,  who  asked  whither  he  was  going. 
“  To  Springfield,  sir,”  was  the  reply,  “  to  be  tried  for 
my  life.” 

The  proof  was  complete,  and  Jackson  was  condemned 
to  death.  When  the  president  of  the  council  asked  if 
a  pardon  should  be  granted,  member  after  member  op¬ 
posed,  until  Mr.  Edwards  told  the  story  of  his  meeting 
with  Jackson  in  the  woods.  By  common  consent  a  par¬ 
don  was  at  once  made  out.  The  childlike  simplicity 
and  integrity  of  the  man  had  saved  his  life.  Character 
is  power. 

In  the  great  monetary  panic  of  1857,  a  meeting  was 
called  of  the  various  bank  presidents  of  New  York  city. 
When  asked  what  percentage  of  specie  had  been  drawn 
during  the  day,  some  replied  fifty  per  cent.,  some  even 
as  high  as  seventy-five  per  cent.,  but  Moses  Taylor  of 
the  City  Bank  said:  “We  had  in  the  bank  this  morn¬ 
ing,  $400,000 ;  this  evening,  $470,000.”  While  other 
banks  were  badly  “  run,”  the  confidence  in  the  City  Bank 
under  Mr.  Taylor’s  management  was  such  that  people 
had  deposited  in  that  institution  what  they  had  drawn 
from  other  banks.  Character  gives  confidence. 

“  One  man  speaks  with  the  accent  of  conviction,  and 
his  words  are  edicts.  Nations  run  to  obey,  as  if  to 
obey  was  the  only  joy  they  coveted.  Another  speaks 
hesitatingly  and  only  makes  us  question  whether  the 
gift  of  speech  be,  on  the  whole,  a  blessing.” 

We  can  calculate  the  efficiency  of  an  engine  to  the 
last  ounce  of  pressure.  Its  power  can  be  as  accurately 
determined  as  the  temperature  of  a  room.  But  who  can 
rightly  determine  the  inherent  force  of  a  man  of  pre¬ 
dominant  character  ?  Who  can  estimate  the  influence  of 
a  single  boy  or  girl  upon  the  character  of  a  school  ? 
Traditions,  customs,  manners  have  been  changed  for  sev¬ 
eral  school  generations  by  one  or  two  strong  characters, 
who  in  their  own  small  way,  but  none  the  less  impor¬ 
tant,  have  become  school  heroes  —  as  much  real  forces 


254 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


i.11  life  as  if  they  were  locomotives  dragging  loads  o t 
cars.  Any  teacher  will  tell  you  that  many  a  school  has 
been  pulled  up  grade,  or  run  down,  by  just  such  impe¬ 
rious  characters. 

When  war  with  France  seemed  imminent,  in  1798, 
President  Adams  wrote  to  George  Washington,  then  a 
private  citizen  in  retirement  at  Mount  Vernon:  “We 
must  have  your  name,  if  you  will  permit  us  to  use  it ; 
there  will  be  more  efficacy  in  it  than  in  many  an 
army.”  Character  is  power. 

Wellington  said  that  Napoleon’s  presence  in  the 
French  army  was  equivalent  to  forty  thousand  ad¬ 
ditional  soldiers,  and  Richter  said  of  the  invincible 
Luther,  “  His  words  were  half  battles.” 

St.  Bernard  had  such  power  over  men  that  mothers 
hid  their  sons,  wives  their  husbands,  companions  their 
friends,  lest  they  should  be  persuaded  to  enter  the 
monastery. 

“  You  could  not  stand  with  Burke  under  an  archway 
while  a  shower  of  rain  was  passing,”  said  Dr.  Johnson, 
“  without  discovering  that  he  was  an  extraordinary 
man.” 

Warren  Hastings  said  he  thought  himself  the  basest 
of  men  while  Burke  was  hurling  at  him  his  terrible 
denunciations  when  on  trial  for  his  alleged  misrule  in 
India. 

“  Hence  it  was,”  said  Franklin,  speaking  of  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  his  known  integrity  of  character,  “  that  I 
had  so  much  weight  with  my  fellow  citizens.  I  was  but 
a  bad  speaker,  never  eloquent,  subject  to  much  hesita¬ 
tion  in  my  choice  of  words,  hardly  correct  in  language, 
and  yet  I  generally  carried  my  point.” 

“  The  man  behind  the  sermon,”  said  William  M. 
Evarts,  “is  the  secret  of  John  Hall’s  power.”  In 
fact  if  there  is  not  a  man  with  a  character  behind  it 
nothing  about  it  is  of  the  slightest  consequence. 

John  Brown  (of  Ossawatomie)  said:  “One  good, 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


255 


strong,  sound  man  is  worth  one  hundred,  nay,  one  thou¬ 
sand  men  without  character,  in  building  up  a  state.” 

We  all  believe  in  the  man  of  character.  What  power 
of  magic  lies  in  a  great  name  !  Theodore  Parker  used 
to  say  that  Socrates  was  worth  more  to  a  nation  than 
many  such  states  as  South  Carolina. 

Jefferson  once  wrote  to  Washington :  “  The  confi¬ 
dence  of  the  whole  nation  centres  in  you.”  There  was 
not  a  throne  in  Europe  that  could  stand  against  Wash¬ 
ington’s  character,  and  in  comparison  with  it  the  mil¬ 
lions  of  the  Rothschilds  would  look  ridiculous.  What 
are  the  works  of  avarice  compared  with  the  names  of 
Lincoln,  Grant,  or  Garfield  ?  A  few  names  have  ever 
been  the  salt  which  has  preserved  the  nations  from  pre¬ 
mature  decay. 

“It  is  the  nature  of  party  in  England,”  said  John 
Russell,  “  to  ask  the  assistance  of  men  of  genius,  but  to 
follow  the  guidance  of  men  of  character.” 

“My  road  must  be  through  character  to  power,” 
wrote  Canning  in  1801.  “  I  will  try  no  other  course ; 

and  I  am  sanguine  enough  to  believe  that  this  course, 
though  not  perhaps  the  quickest,  is  the  surest.” 

Power  is  the  great  goal  of  ambition,  and  it  is  only 
through  a  noble  character  that  one  can  arrive  at  a  per¬ 
sonality  strong  enough  to  move  men  and  nations. 

“The  thought,  the  feeling  in  the  central  man  in  a 
great  city  touches  all  who  are  in  it  who  think  and  feel,” 
said  C.  T.  Brooks.  “  The  very  boys  catch  something  of 
his  power,  and  have  something  about  them  that  would 
not  be  there  if  he  were  not  in  the  town.” 

During  the  civil  war  in  France,  Montaigne  alone  kept 
his  castle  gates  unbarred,  and  was  not  molested.  His 
character  was  more  powerful  than  the  king’s  guards. 
Truly,  as  Pope  says,  he ’s  armed  without  that ’s  inno¬ 
cent  within. 

History  and  biography  show  many  wonderful  in¬ 
stances  of  the  immunity  accorded  to  men  of  character. 


256 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


A  strange  talisman  seemed  to  surround  them.  Head  the 
lives  of  William  Penn,  Roger  Williams,  Xavier,  Living¬ 
stone,  and  of  many  others  who  courted  danger  for  the 
sake  of  religion  or  science,  and  why  is  it  that  they  have 
been  spared  by  the  savage  spear  ?  Character  is  protec¬ 
tion. 

In  the  army,  fleeing  from  Moscow  amid  the  bewilder¬ 
ing  snows  of  a  biting  Russian  winter,  was  a  German 
prince  whose  sterling  character  had  endeared  him  to 
all  his  soldiers.  One  bitter  night,  in  the  ruins  of  a 
shed  built  for  cattle,  all  lay  down  to  sleep,  cold,  tired, 
and  hungry.  At  dawn  the  prince  awoke,  warm  and 
refreshed,  and  listened  to  the  wind  as  it  howled  and 
shrieked  around  the  shed.  He  called  his  men,  but  re¬ 
ceived  no  reply.  Looking  around,  he  found  their  dead 
bodies  covered  with  snow,  while  their  cloaks  were  piled 
upon  himself  —  their  lives  given  to  save  his. 

“  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,”  said  the  Reverend 
Peter  J.  G.  Muhlenburg  to  his  congregation  at  Wood- 
stock,  Va.,  about  the  close  of  seventeen  hundred  and 
seventy-five ;  a  time  to  preach  and  a  time  to  pray,  but 
those  times  have  passed  away.  There  is  a  time  to  fight 
and  that  time  lias  now  come.”  So  saying,  lie  flung 
aside  his  ministerial  robes  and  stood  before  them  in  the 
full  uniform  of  a  Virginia  colonel.  Xearly  every  man  in 
his  congregation  joined  him ;  and,  with  others  quickly 
rallied  from  a  distance,  he  marched  to  do  noble  service 
in  the  Revolutionary  War,  from  which  he  returned  an 
honored  major-general. 

“I  fear,  my  Attilia,  that,  for  this  year,  our  little 
fields  must  remain  unsown,”  said  Quintius  Cincinnatus 
to  his  wife,  as  the  deputies  of  the  Roman  Senate  led 
him  away  to  a  consulship,  when  the  great  empire  was 
in  danger.  They  had  found  him  holding  the  plough, 
clad  in  plain  attire,  and  apparently  destitute  of  ambi¬ 
tion  for  office.  By  his  moderation,  humanity,  and  jus¬ 
tice  in  the  midst  of  factional  jealousy,  he  soon  restored 
public  tranquillity,  anti  returned  to  his  plough. 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


257 

Another  exigency  soon  arose,  when  the  Eternal  City 
needed  character,  and  the  senate  made  him  dictator, 
with  unlimited  power.  He  restored  public  confidence, 
reorganized  the  army,  defeated  a  powerful  enemy,  and 
then,  having  refused  any  share  of  the  rich  spoil,  he  re¬ 
signed  the  dictatorship  which  he  had  held  but  fourteen 
days,  and  resumed  work  upon  his  farm  as  calmly  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

“  0  sir,  we  are  beaten,”  exclaimed  the  general  in 
command  of  Sheridan’s  army,  retreating  before  the  vic¬ 
torious  Early.  “No,  sir,”  replied  the  indignant  Sheri¬ 
dan;  “you  are  beaten,  but  this  army  is  not  beaten.” 
Drawing  his  sword,  he  waved  it  above  his  head,  and 
pointed  it  at  the  pursuing  host,  while  his  clarion  voice 
rose  above  the  horrid  din  in  a  command  to  charge  once 
more.  The  lines  paused,  turned,  — 

“And  with  the  ocean’s  mighty  swing, 

When  heaving  to  the  tempest’s  wing, 

They  hurled  them  on  the  foe;  ” 

and  the  Confederate  army  was  wildly  routed. 

How  could  an  ancient  battle  be  won  by  bringing 
upon  the  field,  bound  upright  upon  his  familiar  charger, 
the  corpse  of  Douglas,  of  whose  death  his  troops  were 
ignorant  ?  When  Clan  Alpine’s  best  were  borne  back¬ 
ward  in  Scott’s  “Lady  of  the  Lake,”  why  would  one 
blast  upon  his  bugle-horn  have  been  worth  a  thousand 
men,  if  blown  by  Roderick  Dhu,  then  lying  in  his  blood 
at  Stirling  Castle  ?  Surely  a  living  private  were  better 
than  a  dead  general,  and  scores  of  mountaineers  could 
blow  as  loud  a  blast  as  Roderick.  The  power  all  ema¬ 
nated  from  the  character  or  spirit  of  which  the  clay  on 
horseback  was  known  as  the  outward  embodiment,  and 
the  stirring  bugle-call  the  voice. 

One  of  the  most  dramatic  illustrations  of  the  force  of 
manhood  in  action,  and  at  the  same  time  in  restraint, 
comes  to  us  from  the  Civil  War.  The  following  thrill¬ 
ing  description  of  the  charge  at  New  Market  Heights 


258  PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 

is  an  extract  from  General  Butler’s  speech  on  the  Civil 
Rights  Bill :  — 

“Now,  sir,  you  will  allow  me  to  state  how  I  got  ovei 
my  prejudices.  I  think  the  House  got  over  theirs  aftei 
the  exhibition  we  had  yesterday.  I  think  no  man  will 
get  up  here  and  say  he  speaks  only  to  white  men  again. 
He  must,  at  first,  show  himself  'worthy  before  he  can 
speak  for  some  colored  men  in  the  House,  after  vrhat 
occurred  yesterday. 

“  I  came  into  command  in  Virginia  in  eighteen  hun¬ 
dred  and  sixty-three.  I  there  organized  twenty-five 
regiments,  with  some  that  were  sent  to  me,  and  disci¬ 
plined  them.  Still,  all  my  brother  officers  of  the  regu¬ 
lar  army  said  my  colored  soldiers  would  not  fight,  and 
1  felt  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  fight  to  show 
that  their  race  was  capable  of  the  duties  of  citizens ; 
for  one  of  the  highest  duties  of  citizens  is  to  defend 
their  own  liberties  and  their  country’s  flag  and  honor. 
I  went  myself  with  the  colored  troops  to  attack  the 
enemy  at  New  Market  Heights,  which  was  the  key  to 
the  enemy’s  flank  on  the  north  side  of  James  River. 
When  the  flash  of  dawn  was  breaking,  I  placed  a 
column  of  three  thousand  colored  troops,  in  close 
column  by  division,  right  in  front,  with  guns  at  right 
shoulder  shift. 

“  I  said  :  ‘  That  work  must  be  taken  by  the  weight  of 
your  column :  no  shot  must  be  fired ;  ’  and  to  prevent 
their  firing  I  had  the  caps  taken  from  the  nipples  of 
their  guns.  Then  I  said  :  ‘  Your  cry,  when  you  charge, 
will  be  “  Remember  Fort  Pillow7 ;  ”  ’  and  as  the  sun  rose 
ap  in  the  heavens  the  order  was  given  ‘  Forward,’  and 
they  marched  forward,  steadily  as  if  on  parade  —  went 
down  the  hill,  across  the  marsh,  and  as  they  got  into 
the  brook  they  came  within  range  of  the  enemy’s  fire, 
which  vigorously  opened  upon  them.  They  broke  a 
little  as  they  forded  the  brook,  and  the  column  wavered. 
Oh,  .it  was  a  moment  of  intensest  anxiety,  but  the^ 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER.  259 

formed  again  as  they  reached  the  firm  ground,  march¬ 
ing  steadily  on  with  closed  ranks  under  the  enemy’s 
fire,  until  the  head  of  the  column  reached  the  first  line 
of  abatis,  some  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the 
enemy’s  works.  Then  axemen  ran  to  the  front  to  cut 
away  the  heavy  obstructions  of  defense,  while  one  thou¬ 
sand  men  of  the  enemy  with  their  artillery  concen¬ 
trated,  from  the  redoubt,  poured  a  heavy  fire  upon  the 
head  of  the  column  hardly  wider  than  the  clerk’s  desk. 
The  axemen  went  down  under  the  murderous  fire  ;  other 
strong  hands  grasped  the  axes  in  their  stead,  and  the 
abatis  was  cut  away.  Again,  at  double-quick,  the  col¬ 
umn  goes  forward  to  within  forty  yards  of  the  fort,  to 
meet  there  another  line  of  abatis.  The  column  halts. 
And  there  a  very  fire  of  hell  is  poured  upon  them..  The 
abatis  resists  and  holds,  the  head  of  the  column  seemed 
literally  to  melt  away  under  the  shot  and  shell,  the  flags 
of  the  leading  regiments  go  down,  but  a  brave  black 
hand  seizes  the  colors ;  strong  hands  and  willing  hearts 
seize  the  heavy,  sharpened  trees  and  drag  them  away, 
and  the  column  went  forward,  and,  with  a  shout  which 
now  rings  in  my  ear,  they  went  over  that  redoubt  like  a 
flash,  and  the  enemy  never  stopped  running  for  four 
miles. 

“  It  became  my  painful  duty,  sir,  to  follow  in  the 
track  of  that  charging  column,  and  there,  in  a  space  not 
wider  than  the  clerk’s  desk  and  three  hundred  yards 
long,  lay  the  dead  bodies  of  five  hundred  and  forty-three 
of  my  colored  soldiers,  slain  in  defense  of  their  country, 
and  who  had  laid  down  their  lives  to  uphold  its  flag  and 
its  honor  as  a  willing  sacrifice ;  and,  as  I  rode  along 
among  them,  guiding  my  horse  this  way  and  that  way, 
lest  he  should  profane  with  his  foot  what  seemed  to  me 
the  sacred  dead,  and  I  looked  on  their  bronzed  faces  up¬ 
turned  in  the  shining  sun  to  heaven,  as  if  in  mute  ap¬ 
peal  against  the  wrongs  of  that  country  for  which  they 
had  given  their  lives,  and  whose  flag  had  only  been  to 


260 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


them  a  flag  of  stripes,  on  which  no  star  of  glory  had 
ever  shone  for  them,  —  feeling  that  I  had  wronged  them 
in  the  past,  and  believing  what  was  the  future  of  my  i 
country  to  them,  —  among  my  dead  comrades  there  I 
swore  to  myself  a  solemn  oath :  ‘  May  my  right  hand 
forget  its  cunning  and  my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  * 
my  mouth,  if  I  ever  fail  to  defend  the  rights  of  these 
men  who  have  given  their  blood  for  me  and  my  country 
this  day  and  for  their  grace  forever ;  7  and,  God  help-=  ; 
ing  me,  I  will  keep  that  oath.’7 

On  the  2d  of  September,  1792,  the  populace  broke  into 
the  prisons  of  Paris,  crowded  almost  to  suffocation  with 
aristocrats  and  priests.  These  fell  like  grain  before 
the  scythe  of  the  reaper.  But  in  the  midst  of  that 
wild,  revel  of  blood,  a  sans  culotte  recognized  the  Abb6 
Sicard,  who  had  spent  his  life  teaching  the  deaf  and 
dumb,  and  in  whose  house  — 

“  The  cunning  fingers  finely  twined 
The  subtle  thread  that  knitteth  mind  to  mind  ; 

There  that  strange  bridge  of  signs  was  built  where  roll 
The  sunless  waves  that  sever  soul  from  soul, 

And  by  the  arch,  no  bigger  than  a  hand, 

Truth  traveled  over  to  the  silent  land.” 

“  Behold  the  bosom  through  which  you  must  pass  to 
reach  that  of  this  good  citizen,77  said  Mounot,  who  knew 
the  abbe  only  by  sight  and  reputation;  “you  do  not 
know  him.  He  is  the  Abbe  Sicard,  one  of  the  most 
benevolent  of  men,  the  most  useful  to  his  country,  the 
father  of  the  deaf  and  dumb.77  And  the  murderers 
around  embraced  him,  and  wished  to  carry  him  home  in 
their  arms.  Even  in  that  bloodstained  throng  the 
power  of  a  noble  character  was  still  supreme. 

The  Pranks  had  maintained  a  siege  of  the  Boman 
walls  of  Paris  until  the  starving  garrison  began  to  de- 
spair,  although  their  fortifications  were  strong  enough. 
No  warrior  was  willing  to  incur  the  risk  of  going  out  in 
search  of  provisions.  But  Genevieve,  a  maid  of  the 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER.  261 

garrison,  went  down  the  Seine  in  a  little  boat,  beyond 
the  camp  of  the  besiegers,  and  succeeded  in  persuading 
the  different  Gallic  tribes  to  send  supplies  to  their  fam¬ 
ished  brethren. 

The  Franks  withdrew ;  but,  in  a  later  attempt  when 
Genevieve  was  absent,  they  seized  the  city  and  closed 
the  gates  in  mysterious  fear  that  she  might  return,  the 
guards  being  specially  instructed  to  deny  her  admit¬ 
tance.  But  in  the  homely  gown  and  veil  of  a  peasant 
she  entered  unsuspected,  and  appeared  before  the  Frank 
leader  Hilperik  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  carousal.  What 
passed  in  that  interview  is  not  known  beyond  the  fact 
that  the  barbarian  granted  safety  to  his  captives  and 
mercy  to  all  the  people.  She  is  regarded  to  this  day 
the  patron  saint  of  Paris. 

Character,  when  expressed,  is  only  reflex  action :  it  is 
the  doing  what  we  have  always  resolved  to  do  when  the 
chance  came.  Character  is  like  stock  in  trade;  the 
more  of  it  a  man  possesses,  the  greater  his  facilities 
for  adding  to  it.  J ust  as  a  man  prizes  his  character,  so 
is  he. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  mortally  wounded  at  Zutphen,  was 
tortured  by  thirst  from  his  great  loss  of  blood.  Water 
was  carried  to  him.  A  wounded  soldier  borne  by  on  a 
i  litter  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  bottle  with  such  a  wistful 
;  gaze  that  Sidney  insisted  on  giving  it  to  him,  saying, 
i  “  Thy  necessity  is  greater  than  mine.”  Sidney  died, 
but  this  deed  alone  would  have  made  his  name  honored 
:  when  that  of  the  king  he  served  is  forgotten.  Florence 
Nightingale  tells  of  soldiers  suffering  with  dysentery, 
who,  scorning  to  report  themselves  sick  lest  they  should 
force  more  labor  on  their  overworked  comrades,  would 
go  down  to  the  trenches  and  make  them  their  death-beds. 
Say  what  you  will,  there  is  in  the  man  who  gives  his 
time,  his  strength,  his  life,  if  need  be,  for  something  not 
himself,  —  whether  he  call  it  his  queen,  his  country, 
his  colors,  or  his  fellow  man,  —  something  more  truly 


262 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Christian  than  in  all  the  ascetic  fasts,  humiliations,  and 
confessions  that  have  jever  been  made. 

Porsena  threatened  Cams  Mutius  with  torture,  when 
the  latter  coolly  stretched  his  right  hand  into  the  camp¬ 
fire,  and  watched  it  burn  to  a  crisp  without  a  groan. 
The  Tuscan  freed  his  prisoner,  and  concluded  a  treaty 
with  Rome,  the  country  which  reared  such  men  as 
Mutius  and  Horatius. 

“I  have  read,”  Emerson  says,  “that  they  who  lis¬ 
tened  to  Lord  Chatham  felt  that  there  was  something 
finer  in  the  man  than  anything  which  he  said.”  It  has 
been  complained  of  Carlyle  that  when  he  has  told  all 
his  facts  about  Mirabeau  they  do  not  justify  his  esti¬ 
mate  of  the  latter’s  genius.  The  Gracchi,  Agis,  Cle- 
omenes,  and  others  of  Plutarch’s  heroes  do  not  in  the 
record  of  facts  equal  their  own  fame.  Sir  Philip  Sid¬ 
ney  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  are  men  of  great  figure 
and  of  few  deeds.  We  cannot  find  the  smallest  part  of 
the  personal  weight  of  Washington  in  the  narrative  of 
his  exploits.  The  authority  of  the  name  of  Schiller  is 
too  great  for  his  books.  This  inequality  of  the  reputa¬ 
tion  to  the  works  or  the  ancedotes  is  not  accounted  for 
by  saying  that  the  reverberation  is  longer  than  the  thun¬ 
der-clap  ;  but  something  resided  in  these  men  which 
begot  an  expectation  that  outran  all  their  performance. 
The  largest  part  of  their  power  was  latent.  This  is 
that  which  we  call  character,  —  a  reserved  force  which 
acts  directly  by  presence,  and  without  means.  What 
others  effect  by  talent  or  eloquence,  the  man  of  character 
accomplishes  by  some  magnetism.  “  Half  his  strength 
he  puts  not  forth.”  His  victories  are  by  demonstration 
of  superiority,  and  not  by  crossing  bayonets.  He  con¬ 
quers,  because  his  arrival  alters  the  face  of  affairs. 
u  0  Iole  !  how  didst  thou  know  that  Hercules  was  a 
god  ?  ”  “  Because,”  answered  Iole,  “  I  was  content  the 

moment  my  eyes  fell  on  him.  When  I  beheld  Theseus, 
I  desired  that  I  might  see  him  offer  battle,  or  at  least 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


263 


drive  his  horses  in  the  chariot-race ;  but  Hercules  did 
uot  wait  for  a  contest ;  he  conquered  whether  he  stood, 
or  walked,  or  sat,  or  whatever  else  he  did.” 

There  are  men  and  women  in  every  country  who  con¬ 
quer  before  they  speak,  and  who  exert  an  influence  out 
of  all  proportion  to  their  ability,  and  people  wonder 
what  is  the  secret  of  their  power  over  men.  It  is  nat¬ 
ural  for  all  classes  to  believe  in  and  to  follow  character, 
for  character  is  power.  Even  the  murderer  respects  the 
justice  of  the  judge  who  pronounces  his  death-sentence. 
Something  in  him  instinctively  feels  and  indorses  its 
right  and  justice.  Never  did  Caesar  exert  a  greater  in¬ 
fluence  over  the  Koman  people  than  when  he  lay  upon 
the  marble  floor  of  the  senate,  pierced  by  cruel  daggers, 
—  his  wounds  so  many  open  mouths  pleading  for  him. 

It  was  said  of  Sheridan :  “  Had  he  possessed  principle 
he  might  have  ruled  the  world.”  How  few  young  men 
realize  that  their  success  in  life  depends  more  upon  what 
they  are  than  upon  what  they  know.  It  was  character, 
not  ability,  that  elected  Washington  and  Lincoln  to  the 
presidency. 

Webster  bid  high  for  the  presidency.  The  price  was 
his  honor  —  all  his  former  convictions.  When  a  farmer 
heard  that  he  had  lost  the  nomination,  he  said :  “  The 
South  never  pays  its  slaves.” 

What  is  this  principle  that  Napoleon  and  Webster 
lacked?  Is  it  not  a  deathless  loyalty  to  the  highest 
ideal  which  the  world  has  been  able  to  produce  up  to 
the  present  date  ?  This  is  what  we  admire  and  respect 
in  strong  men  whose  roots  are  deep  in  the  ground  and 
whose  character  is  robust  enough  to  keep  them  like 
oaks  in  their  places  when  all  around  is  whirling. 

“  Trying  to  run  without  a  pilot,”  was  the  only  com¬ 
ment  of  a  captain,  as  a  passenger  once  pointed  to  a 
wreck  lying  upon  the  rocks.  This  would  form  a  perti¬ 
nent  inscription  over  Byron,  Burns,  and  many  a  prema¬ 
ture  grave.  Character  is  safety. 


m 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


When  promised  protection  in  Turkey  if  he  would 
embrace  the  Mohammedan  religion,  the  exiled  Kossuth 
replied :  “  Between  death  and  shame,  I  have  never  been 
dubious.  Though  once  the  governor  of  a  generous 
people,  I  leave  no  inheritance  to  my  children.  That 
were  at  least  better  than  an  insulted  name.  God’s  will 
be  done.  I  am  prepared  to  die.”  “These  hands  of 
mine,”  he  said  at  another  time,  “  are  empty  but  clean.” 

“  Mamma,”  exclaimed  the  young  Princess  Victoria,, 
“I  cannot  see  who  is  to  come  after  Uncle  William  un¬ 
less  it  is  myself.”  When  told  that  she  was  the  heir 
apparent,  she  said :  “  I  will  be  good.” 

More  than  half  a  century  has  elapsed  since  this 
princess  of  eighteen  years  was  roused  from  slumber  on 
the  21st  of  June,  1837,  and  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Without  even  time 
to  dress,  she  hastily  threw  a  wrapper  over  her  night- 
robes,  and,  with  slippers  on  bare  feet,  and  hair  in 
disorder,  she  went  before  the  archbishop  and  was 
saluted  “Queen.”  The  king  was  dead,  and  business 
of  state  will  not  wait  for  ladies’  toilets.  With  all  the 
dignity,  innocence,  and  good  sense  of  a  true  woman, 
the  young  queen  extended  her  hand  for  the  customary 
kiss  of  allegiance.  Character,  courtesy,  and  sound 
judgment  have  distinguished  her  wonderful  reign  of 
over  half  a  century,  and  not  once  has  she  ceased  to  be 
a  real  queen. 

When  Petrarch  approached  the  tribunal  to  take  the 
customary  oath  as  a  witness,  he  was  told  that  such  was 
the  confidence  of  the  court  in  his  veracity  that  his  word 
would  be  sufficient,  and  he  would  not  be  required  to 
swear  to  his  testimony. 

Hugh  Miller  was  offered  the  position  of  cashier  in  a 
large  bank,  but  declined,  saying  that  he  knew  little  of 
accounts,  and  could  not  get  a  bondsman.  “We  do  not 
require  bonds  of  you,”  said  Mr.  Boss,  president  of  the 
bank.  Miller  did  not  ever  know  that  Boss  knew  him. 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER.  265 

Our  characteristics  are  always  under  inspection  whether 
we  realize  it  or  not. 

“  No  man  ever  entered  Mr.  Pitt’s  closet  who  did  not 
feel  himself  a  braver  man  when  he  came  out/'  said  an 
eminent  soldier  who  knew  Chatham  well. 

When  Florence  Nightingale  entered  the  hospital  at 
the  Crimea,  the  whole  atmosphere  seemed  changed. 
From  those  rough  soldiers,  tossing  on  beds  of  anguish, 
there  came  not  a  word  to  shock  the  most  fastidious. 

VittoriaColonna  wrote  her  husband,  when  the  princes 
of  Italy  urged  him  to  desert  the  Spanish  cause,  to  which 
he  was  bound  by  every  tie  of  faithfulness,  “  Bemember 
your  honor,  which  raises  you  above  kings.  By  that 
alone,  and  not  by  titles  and  splendor,  is  glory  acquired 
—  the  glory  which  it  will  be  your  happiness  and  pride 
to  transmit  unspotted  to  your  posterity.” 

When  Thoreau  lay  dying,  a  Calvinistic  friend  asked 
anxiously,  “  Henry,  have  you  made  your  peace  with 
God?”  “John,”  whispered  the  dying  naturalist,  “ I 
did  n’t  know  God  and  myself  had  quarreled.” 

Lincoln,  although  President  of  a  great  people,  was 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  aristocratic  and  fashionable 
circles  of  Europe.  The  illustrated  papers  of  all  Chris¬ 
tendom  caricatured  the  awkwardness  and  want  of  dig¬ 
nity  of  this  backwoods  graduate.  Politicians  were 
shocked  at  the  simplicity  of  his  state  papers,  and  wished 
to  make  them  more  conventional ;  but  Lincoln  only  re¬ 
plied,  “The  people  will  understand  them.”  Even  in 
Washington  he  was  ridiculed  as  “the  ape,”  “stupid  block¬ 
head,”  and  «  satyr.”  On  reading  these  terrible  denun¬ 
ciations  and  criticisms,  he  once  said,  “Well,  Abraham 
Lincoln,  are  you  a  man  or  are  you  a  dog  ?  ”  After  the 
repulse  at  Fredericksburg  he  said,  “  If  there  is  a  man 
out  of  hell  that  suffers  more  than  I  do,  I  pity  him.” 
But  the  great  heart  of  the  common  people  beat  in  unison 
with  his.  The  poor  operatives  in  European  cotton-mills 
sometimes  nearly  starved  for  lack  of  cotton,  but  they 


266 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


never  petitioned  their  government  to  break  Lincoln’s 
blockade.  Working  people,  the  world  over,  believed  in 
and  sympathized  with  him. 

No  man  ever  lived  of  whom  it  could  have  been  more 
truly  said  that,  — 

“  The  elements 

So  mixed  in  him  that  nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  ‘  This  is  a  man.’  ” 

The  world,  it  is  said,  is  always  looking  for  men  who 
are  not  for  sale  ;  men  who  are  honest,  sound  from  cen 
tre  to  circumference,  true  to  the  heart’s  core ;  men 
whose  consciences  are  as  steady  as  the  needle  to  the 
pole  ;  men  who  will  stand  for  the  right  if  the  heavens 
totter  and  the  earth  reels  ;  men  who  can  tell  the  truth, 
and  look  the  world  and  the  devil  right  in  the  eye ;  men 
that  neither  brag  nor  run ;  men  that  neither  flag  nor 
flinch ;  men  who  can  have  courage  without  shouting  to 
it ;  men  in  whom  the  courage  of  everlasting  life  runs 
still,  deep,  and  strong;  men  who  know  their  message 
and  tell  it ;  men  who  know  their  places  and  fill  them  ; 
men  who  know  their  own  business  and  attend  to  it ; 
men  who  will  not  lie,  shirk,  nor  dodge ;  men  who  are 
not  too  lazy  to  work,  not  too  proud  to  be  poor ;  men  who 
are  willing  to  eat  what  they  have  earned,  and  wear  what 
they  have  paid  for  ;  men  who  are  not  afraid  to  say 
“  No  ”  with  emphasis,  and  who  are  not  ashamed  to  say, 
“  I  can’t  afford  it.” 

“  How  true  it  is  that  many  millionaires,  like  the  but 
ternut,  impoverish  the  ground  upon  which  they  grow ; 
others  are  like  the  olive-trees  which  enrich  the  very  soil 
upon  which  they  feed.  Others  are  affluent  souls,  which 
enrich  by  their  very  presence,  whose  smiles  are  full  of 
blessing,  and  whose  touch  has  a  balm  of  healing  in  it 
like  the  touch  of  Him  of  Nazareth.” 

If  there  is  any  one  power  in  the  world  that  will  make 
itself  felt,  it  is  character.  There  may  be  little  culture, 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


267 


slender  abilities,  no  property,  no  position  in  “  society } 55 
yet,  if  there  be  a  character  of  sterling  excellence,  it  will 
demand  influence  and  secure  respect. 

“  A  man,  Caesar,  is  born,”  says  Emerson,  “  and  for 
ages  after,  we  have  a  Roman  empire.  Napoleon  changes 
the  front  of  the  world.  Bacon  turns  in  a  new  direction 
the  thought  of  the  human  race.  Newton  interprets  the 
thoughts  of  God.  Eranklin  unlocks  the  temple  of 
Nature.” 

“  A  right  act  strikes  a  chord  that  extends  through 
the  whole  universe,  touches  all  moral  intelligence,  visits 
every  world,  vibrates  along  its  whole  extent,  and  con¬ 
veys  its  vibrations  to  the  very  bosom  of  God.” 

Do  you  not  see  a  quality  greater  than  leadership  or 
generalship  in  Moses  at  the  Red  Sea,  Leonidas  at  Ther- 
mopylse,  Iioratius  at  the  bridge,  Winkelried  at  Lake 
Zurich,  Napoleon  at  Areola  or  Lodi,  Ney  guarding  the 
rear  of  the  Grand  Army,  Nelson  at  the  Nile,  Wolfe  at 
Quebec,  Allen  at  Ticonderoga,  Arnold  at  Saratoga, 
Washington  at  Yorktown,  Perry  at  Lake  Erie,  Jackson 
at  New  Orleans,  Earragut  on  the  Mississippi,  Grant  at 
Vicksburg,  Sheridan  at  Winchester,  or  in  scores  of 
others  who  have  achieved  triumphs  in  war  or  in  peace  ? 

Louis  XIV.  asked  Colbert  how  it  was  that,  ruling  so 
great  and  populous  a  country  as  Erance,  he  had  been 
unable  to  conquer  so  small  a  country  as  Holland.  “  Be¬ 
cause,”  said  the  minister,  “  the  greatness  of  a  country 
does  not  depend  upon  the  extent  of  its  territory,  but  on 

the  character  of  its  people.” 

The  characters  of  great  men  are  the  dowry  of  a  na¬ 
tion.  Chateaubriand  said  he  saw  Washington  but  once, 
yet  it  inspired  his  whole  life.  An  English  tanner  whose 
leather  gained  a  great  reputation  said  he  should  not 
have  made  it  so  good  had  he  not  read  Cail}le.  It  is 
said  that  Eranklin  reformed  the  manners  of  a  whole 
workshop  in  London.  Ariosto  and  litian  inspired  each 
other  and  heightened  each  other  s  glory.  I  ell  me 


268 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


whom  you  admire,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  you  are  » 

thought °ofWh°  °f  ,art  pUtS  US  in  the  mood  or  train  of 
ought  of  him  who  produced  it.  Is  Michael  Angelo 

dead  .  Ask  the  hundreds  of  thousands  who  have  gfzed 

with  rapt  souls  upon  his  immortal  works  at  Rome8  In 

how  many  thousands  of  lives  has  he  lived  and  reigned  > 

Aie  Washington,  Grant,  and  Lincoln  dead  ?  Did  they 

ever  live  more  truly  than  to-day  ?  What  American 

heart  or  home  does  not  enshrine  their  characters  ? 

Moses  URah°l  y°UrS-!l5  lf  }0U  Can’  Esypt  without  a 
Moses  Babylon  without  a  Daniel,  Athens  without  a 

emosthenes,  Phidias,  Socrates,  or  Plato.  What  was 
2uJ",Jri,ed  before  Christ  without  her 

Cice  O  M  A  ras  Rome  witho"t  her  Caesar,  her 
Ciceio,  Marcus  Aurelius  ?  What  is  Paris  without  her 

Napoleon,  and  Hugo,  and  Pere  Hyacinthe  ?  What  is 

ngland  without  her  Newton,  Shakespeare,  Milton  Pitt 

Burke,  Gladstone  ?  What  is  Boston  without  such’char! 

acteis  as  Garrison,  and  Phillips,  and  Whittier,  and  Emer- 

a  Peter  cl”168  ?  ^  “  NeW  York  withoat  -<=h  men 
s  l  eter  Cooper,  or  Horace  Greeley?  What  is  Cali 

forma  without  her  Stanford,  or  Chicago  Shout  her 

Armour,  Pullman,  and  Field  ?  In  these  cities  millions 

of  lesser  note  have  planned,  and  toiled,  and  worshiped 

SehS  T  a'ld  di6d’  and  haVe  made  the  real  history 
inch  should  receive  our  most  careful  attention :  but 

of  a  fewe  °  S  thougllts’  the  genius,  the  character 
of  a  few  eminent  men  and  women  has  so  leavened  the 

Sjf  f.  fe  “  -«-r  city,  that  they  are  larg  fy 

PePer  tb  %  ^  What  Were  the  C™***  without 

Peter  the  Herm‘t,  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  and  Richard 

lit  pi  ei  ,'0U  J  l  ake  from  England  a  score  of  names 
like  Gladstone  s,  and  who  would  read  her  history  ? 

Dante’??  aH  tht,  centuries  of  Ita]y’s  degradation 
ante  s  name  was  the  watchword  of  the  country,  while 

the  brain  of  many  a  slave  still  echoed  the  impas- 

tioned  words  of  Cicero,  of  the  Scipios,  and  the  Gracchi 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER . 


269 


Byron  said  :  “  The  Italians  talk  Dante,  write  Dante,  and 
think  Dante  at  this  moment  to  an  excess  which  would 
be  ridiculous  but  that  he  deserves  their  admiration.” 
Even  degenerate  Greece  is  not  dead  to  the  influence  of 
the  intellectual  and  moral  giants  of  her  golden  age. 
Indeed,  they  still  hold  sway  throughout  the  earth,  more 
potent  than  when  living,  in  the  realms  of  thought  and 
feeling.  Our  minds  are  shaped  by  the  combined  in¬ 
fluence  of  the  minds  of  men  called  dead,  nearly  as 
strongly  as  by  those  with  whom  we  associate  in  life  ;  our 
creeds  are  sanctified  by  the  devotion  of  martyrs  in 
whose  sufferings  under  persecution  we  share  through 
sympathy,  and  are  thereby  ennobled;  our  deeds  are 
such  as  we  feel  that  our  ideals  would  have  performed 
under  like  conditions. 

“  But  strew  his  ashes  to  the  wind 
Whose  sword  or  voice  has  served  mankind  — 

And  is  he  dead,  whose  glorious  mind 
Lifts  thine  on  high  ? 

To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind 
Is  not  to  die.” 

Every  thought  which  enters  the  mind,  every  word  we 
utter,  every  deed  we  perform,  makes  its  impression  upon 
the  inmost  fibre  of  our  being,  and  the  resultant  of  these 
impressions  is  our  character.  The  study  of  books,  of 
music,  or  of  the  fine  arts,  is  not  essential  to  a  lofty  char¬ 
acter.  Those  most  accomplished  in  learning  and  art 
have  often  been  the  worst  of  men  and  women.  Indeed, 
bookworms  who  become  all  books,  and  artists  who  be¬ 
come  all  art,  are  usually  weak.  Low,  aimless  lives 
leave  their  mark  upon  the  character  as  truly  as  the  Cre¬ 
ator  branded  Cain  with  his  guilt.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  men  in  whom  the  very  dogs  on  the  street  be¬ 
lieve.  Character  is  power. 

Turner  was  on  the  hanging-committee  of  the  Koyal 
Academy  when  the  artist  Bird  presented  a  picture  of 
merit  for  which  no  place  could  be  found.  After  pleau 


270 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


ing  hard  for  it,  only  to  be  met  by  the  constant  assertion 
of  impracticability,  Turner  took  down  one  of  his  own 
cherished  pictures,  and  hung  Bird’s  in  its  place. 

Amos  Lawrence  gave  the  odd  half  cent  and  the  odd 
quarter  of  a  yard  to  his  customer.  It  was  a  little  thing, 
but  it  indicated  his  character. 

We  resemble  insects  which  assume  the  color  of  the 
leaves  and  plants  they  feed  upon,  for  sooner  or  later  we 
become  like  the  food  of  our  minds,  like  the  creatures 
that  live  in  our  hearts.  Every  act  of  our  lives,  every 
word,  every  association,  is  written  with  an  iron  pen 
into  the  very  texture  of  our  being.  The  ghosts  of  our 
murdered  opportunities,  squandered  forces,  killed  time, 
forever  rise  up  to  rebuke  us,  and  will  not  down.  How 
hard  it  is  to  learn  that  like  begets  like  ;  that  an  acorn 
will  always  become  an  oak,  if  anything ;  that  birds  of  a 
feather  will  flock  together ;  that  there  is  a  magnetic 
affinity  between  kindred  things  which  inevitably  brings 
them  together,  and  that  they  must  communicate  their 
own  properties  and  nothing  else ;  that  they  can  do  no 
differently. 

Association  with  the  good  can  only  produce  good  ; 
with  the  wicked,  evil.  No  matter  how  sly,  how  secret, 
no  matter  if  our  associations  have  been  in  the  dark, 
their  images  will  sooner  or  later  appear  in  our  faces 
and  conduct.  The  idols  of  the  heart  look  through  our 
eyes,  appear  in  our  manners,  and  betray  their  worship¬ 
ers.  Our  associates,  our  loves,  hates,  struggles,  tri- 
umphs,  defeats,  dissipations,  aspirations,  intrigues,  hon¬ 
esty,  dishonesty,  all  leave  their  indelible  autographs 
upon  the  soul’s  window  and  are  published  to  the  world. 
Black  hearts  cast  black  shadows  upon  the  face  which  all 
our  will  power  cannot  drive  away.  What  a  panorama 
passes  across  the  face  of  a  dissipated  life  !  Behold  the 
barrooms,  the  dens  of  infamy,  the  dissipated  wretches, 
the  polluted  companions,  the  disgusting  scenes,  the  ask 
mgs  and  denyings  of  passions,  the  struggles  for  victory, 


CHARACTER  IS  POWER. 


271 


the  broken  resolutions,  the  sore  defeats.  But  oh !  what 
radiance  glorifies  the  faces  of  those  who  have  overcome 
temptation  and  disciplined  their  powers  in  striving  for 
self-improvement ! 

Did  you  ever  see  a  pure  and  noble  woman  enter  a 
room  where  a  lot  of  coarse,  rough  men  were  talking  and 
telling  stories  ?  The  whole  character  and  tone  of  the 
company  rises.  The  very  atmosphere  seems  purer.  Tbe 
entire  company  is  transformed.  Sometimes  we  see  such 
a  woman  transform  a  whole  neighborhood.  On  the 
other  hand,  one  bad  woman  may  sometimes  ruin  a  hun¬ 
dred  young  men. 

We  do  not  need  an  introduction  to  a  great  man  to  feel 
his  greatness.  If  you  meet  a  cheerful  man  on  the  street 
on  a  cold  day,  you  seem  to  feel  the  mercury  rise  several 
degrees. 

Our  manners,  our  bearing,  our  presence,  tell  the  story 
of  our  lives,  though  we  do  not  speak,  and  the  influence 
of  every  act  is  felt  in  the  utmost  part  of  the  globe. 
Every  man  that  ever  lived  contributed  something 
towards  making  me  what  I  am.  The  chisel  of  every 
member  of  society  contributed  a  blow  to  the  marble  of 
my  life,  and  influenced  its  destiny. 

He  is  the  greatest  man,  to  me,  at  least,  who  emanci¬ 
pates  me  from  the  imprisonment  of  my  surroundings 
and  environments,  who  loosens  my  tongue,  and  unlocks 
the  floodgates  of  my  possibilities.  He  is  a  lens  to  my 
defective  vision.  I  see  things  in  a  broader  light,  my 
horizon  extends,  my  possibilities  expand.  My  nerves 
thrill  with  the  consciousness  of  added  force.  My  whole 
being  vibrates  with  the  magnetic  currents  from  another 
soul. 

Anger  begets  anger,  and  hate,  hate  ;  the  passions  are 
contagious.  Actors  tell  us  that  they  often  go  upon  the 
stage  with  heavy  hearts  and  melancholy  moods,  when 
they  have  to  play  light  and  gay  characters,  without  the 
slightest  feeling  of  sympathy  with  the  parts  they  have 


272 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


taken ;  yet  so  powerful  is  the  law  of  association  that  the 
moment  they  assume  the  attitude  of  the  character,  the 
real  feelings  which  belong  to  it  come  to  them.  Every¬ 
thing  reproduces  itself,  and  cannot  do  otherwise.  One 
discordant  instrument  spoils  the  harmony  of  the  finest 
orchestra,  and  one  mischief-making  man  or  woman  ruins 
the  peace  of  a  town. 

“  Character  is  always  known,”  says  Emerson.  u  Thefts 
never  enrich ;  alms  never  impoverish ;  murder  will 
speak  out  of  stone  walls.  The  least  mixture  of  a  lie  — ■ 
for  example,  the  taint  of  vanity,  any  attempt  to  make  a 
good  impression,  a  favorable  appearance  —  will  instantly 
vitiate  the  effect.  But  speak  the  truth  and  all  nature 
and  all  spirits  help  you  with  unexpected  furtherance.” 

Character  is  the  poor  man’s  capital. 

Believe  with  Stevens  that  every  man  has  in  himself 
a  continent  of  undiscovered  possibilities.  Happy  is  he 
who  acts  the  Columbus  to  his  own  soul. 

Luther  says  that  the  prosperity  of  a  country  depends, 
not  on  the  abundance  of  its  revenues,  nor  on  the  strength 
of  its  fortifications,  nor  on  the  beauty  of  its  public  build¬ 
ings  ;  but  it  consists  in  the  number  of  its  cultivated  citi¬ 
zens,  in  its  men  of  education,  enlightenment,  and  char¬ 
acter  ;  here  are  to  be  found  its  true  interest,  its  chief 
strength,  its  real  power. 

“Rather  the  ground  that  ’s  deep  enough  for  graves, 

Rather  the  stream  that ’s  strong  enough  for  waves, 

Than  the  loose  sandy  drift 
Whose  shifting  surface  cherishes  no  seed 
Either  of  any  flower  or  any  weed, 

Whichever  way  it  shift.’* 


/ 


CHAPTEE  XYIL 

ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 

44  Antonio  Stradivari  has  an  eye 
That  winces  at  false  work  and  loves  the  true.’* 

Accuracy  is  the  twin  brother  of  honesty.  —  C.  Simmons. 

Genius  is  the  infinite  art  of  taking  pains. —  Carlyle. 

There  is  no  error  in  this  book.  —  Koran. 

I  hate  a  thing  done  by  halves.  If  it  be  right,  do  it  boldly;  if  it  be 
wrong,  leave  it  undone.  —  Gilpin. 

Doing  well  depends  upon  doing  completely.  —  Persian  Proverb. 

If  I  were  a  cobbler,  it  would  be  my  pride 
The  best  of  all  cobblers  to  be ; 

If  I  were  a  tinker,  no  tinker  beside 
Should  mend  an  old  kettle  like  me. 

Old  Song. 

If  a  man  can  write  a  better  book,  preach  a  better  sermon,  or  make  a 
better  mouse-trap  than  his  neighbor,  though  he  build  bis  house  in  the 
woods,  the  world  will  make  a  beaten  path  to  his  door.  —  Emerson. 

Seize  upon  truth,  where’er ’t  is  found, 

Amongst  your  friends,  amongst  your  foes, 

On  Christian  or  on  heathen  ground ; 

The  flower  ’s  divine  where'er  it  grows. 

Watts. 

"  Sir,  it  is  a  watcli  which  I  have  made  and  regulated 
myself/’  said  George  Graham  of  London  to  a  customer 
who  asked  how  far  he  could  depend  upon  its  keeping 
correct  time  ;  “  take  it  with  you  wherever  you  please. 
If  after  seven  years  you  come  hack  to  see  me,  and  can 
tell  me  there  has  been  a  difference  of  five  minutes,  I 
will  return  you  your  money.”  Seven  years  later  the 
gentleman  returned  from  India.  “  Sir,”  said  he,  “  I 
bring  you  back  your  watch.” 

<c  I  remember  our  conditions,”  said  Graham.  te  Let 
me  see  the  watch.  Well,  what  do  you  complain  of  ?  ” 
« Why,”  said  the  man,  “  I  have  had  it  seven  years,  and 
there  is  a  difference  of  more  than  five  minutes.” 


274 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  Indeed !  In  that  case  I  return  you  your  money.” 
“  I  would  not  part  with  my  watch,”  said  the  man,  “  for 
ten  times  the  sum  I  paid  for  it.”  “  And  I  would  not 
break  my  word  for  any  consideration,”  replied  Graham ; 
so  he  paid  the  money  and  took  the  watch,  which  he  used 
as  a  regulator. 

He  learned  his  trade  of  Tampion,  the  most  exquisite 
mechanic  in  London,  if  not  in  the  world,  whose  name 
on  a  timepiece  was  considered  proof  positive  of  its  ex¬ 
cellence.  Character  is  power.  When  a  person  once 
asked  him  to  repair  a  watch  upon  which  his  name 
was  fraudulently  engraved,  Tampion  smashed  it  with  a 
hammer,  and  handed  the  astonished  customer  one  of 
his  own  masterpieces,  saying,  “  Sir,  here  is  a  watch  of 
my  making.”  Graham  invented  the  “  compensating 
mercury  pendulum,”  the  “dead  escapement,”  and  the 
“  orrery,”  none  of  which  has  been  much  improved  since. 
The  clock  which  he  made  for  Greenwich  Observatory 
has  been  running  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  yet  it 
needs  regulating  but  once  in  fifteen  months.  Tampion 
and  Graham  lie  in  Westminster  Abbey,  because  of  the 
accuracy  of  their  work. 

To  insure  safety,  a  navigator  must  know  how  far  he 
is  from  the  equator,  north  or  south,  and  how  far  east  or 
west  of  some  known  point,  as  Greenwich,  Paris,  or 
Washington.  He  could  be  sure  of  this  knowledge  when 
the  sun  is  shining,  if  he  could  have  an  absolutely  accu¬ 
rate  timekeeper ;  but  such  a  thing  has  not  yet  been 
made.  In  the  sixteenth  century  Spain  offered  a  prize  of 
a  thousand  crowns  for  the  discovery  of  an  approxi¬ 
mately  correct  method  of  determining  longitude.  About 
two  hundred  years  later  the  English  government  offered 
£5,000  for  a  chronometer  by  which  a  ship  six  months 
from  home  could  get  her  longitude  within  sixty  miles  ; 
£7,500  if  within  forty  miles  ;  £10,000  if  within  thirty 
miles;  and  in  another  clause  £20,000  for  correctness 
within  thirty  miles,  a  careless  repetition.  The  watch* 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


275 


makers  of  the  world  contested  for  the  prizes,  but  1761 
came,  and  they  had  not  been  awarded.  In  that  year 
John  Harrison  asked  for  a  test  of  his  chronometer.  In 
a  trip  of  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  days  from  Ports¬ 
mouth  to  Jamaica  and  back,  it  varied  less  than  twc 
minutes,  and  only  four  seconds  on  the  outward  voyage., 
In  a  round  trip  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  days 
to  Barbadoes,  the  variation  was  only  fifteen  seconds. 
The  £20,000  was  paid  to  the  man  who  had  worked  and 
experimented  for  forty  years,  and  whose  hand  was  as 
exquisitely  delicate  in  its  movement  as  the  mechanism 
of  his  chronometer. 

“  Make  me  as  good  a  hammer  as  you  know  how,”  said 
a  carpenter  to  the  blacksmith  in  a  New  York  village 
before  the  first  railroad  was  built;  “six  of  us  have 
come  to  work  on  the  new  church,  and  I  ’ve  left  mine  at 
home.”  “  As  good  a  one  as  I  know  how  ?  ”  asked  David 
Maydole,  doubtfully,  “but  perhaps  you  don’t  want  to 
pay  for  as  good  a  one  as  I  know  how  to  make.”  “Yes, 
I  do,”  said  the  carpenter,  “  I  want  a  good  hammer.” 

It  was  indeed  a  good  hammer  that  he  received,  the 
best,  probably,  that  had  ever  been  made.  By  means  of 
a  longer  hole  than  usual,  David  had  wedged  the  handle 
in  its  place  so  that  the  head  could  not  fly  off,  a  wonder¬ 
ful  improvement  in  the  eyes  of  the  carpenter,  who 
boasted  of  his  prize  to  his  companions.  They  all  came 
to  the  shop  next  day,  and  each  ordered  just  such  a  ham¬ 
mer.  When  the  contractor  saw  the  tools,  he  ordered 
two  for  himself,  asking  that  they  be  made  a  little  better 
than  those  for  his  men.  “I  can’t  make  any  better 
ones,”  said  Maydole ;  “  when  I  make  a  thing,  I  make  it 
as  well  as  I  can,  no  matter  whom  it  is  for.” 

The  storekeeper  soon  ordered  two  dozen,  a  supply 
Unheard  of  in  his  previous  business  career.  A  New 
York  dealer  in  tools  came  to  the  village  to  sell  his 
wares,  and  bought  all  the  storekeeper  had,  and  left  a 
standing  order  for  all  the  blacksmith  could  make 


276 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


David  might  have  grown  very  wealthy  by  making 
goods  of  the  standard  already  attained;  but  through¬ 
out  his  long  and  successful  life  he  never  ceased  to 
study  still  further  to  perfect  his  hammers  in  the 
minutest  detail.  They  were  usually  sold  without  any 
warrant  of  excellence,  the  word  “  Maydole  ”  stamped 
on  the  head  being  universally  considered  a  guaranty  of 
the  best  article  the  world  could  produce.  Character  is 
power,  and  is  the  best  advertisement  in  the  world. 

“Yes,”  said  he  one  day  to  the  late  James  Parton, 
who  told  this  story,  “I  have  made  hammers  in  this 
little  village  for  twenty-eight  years.”  “Well,”  replied 
the  great  historian,  “by  this  time  you  ought  to  make 
a  pretty  good  hammer.” 

“  oSTo,  I  can’t,”  was  the  reply,  “  I  can’t  make  a  pretty 
good  hammer.  I  make  the  best  hammer  that’s  made. 
My  only  care  is  to  make  a  perfect  hammer.  I  make 
just  as  many  as  people  want  and  no  more,  and  I  sell 
them  at  a  fair  price.  If  folks  don’t  want  to  pay  me 
what  they  ’re  worth,  they  ’re  welcome  to  buy  cheaper 
ones  somewhere  else.  My  wants  are  few,  and  I ’m 
ready  any  time  to  go  back  to  my  blacksmith’s  shop, 
where  I  worked  forty  years  ago,  before  I  thought  of 
making  hammers.  Then  I  had  a  boy  to  blow  my 
bellows,  now  I  have  one  hundred  and  fifteen  men.  Do 
you  see  them  over  there  watching  the  heads  cook  over 
the  charcoal  furnace,  as  your  cook,  if  she  knows  what 
she  is  about,  watches  the  chops  broiling?  Each  of 
them  is  hammered  out  of  a  piece  of  iron,  and  is  tem¬ 
pered  under  the  inspection  of  an  experienced  man. 
Every  handle  is  seasoned  three  years,  or  until  there 
is  no  shrink  left  in  it.  Once  I  thought  I  could  use 
machinery  in  manufacturing  them ;  now  I  know  that 
a  perfect  tool  can’t  be  made  by  machinery,  and  every 
bit  of  the  work  is  done  by  hand.” 

“In  telling  this  little  story,”  said  Parton,  “I  have 
told  thousands  of  stories.  Take  the  word  hammer 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


277 


out  of  it,  and  put  glue  in  its  place,  and  you  have  the 
history  of  Peter  Cooper.  By  putting  in  other  words, 
you  can  make  the  true  history  of  every  great  business 
in  the  world  which  lias  lasted  thirty  years.” 

“We  have  no  secret,”  said  Manager  Daniel  J.  Morrill, 
of  the  Cambria  Iron  Works,  employing  seven  thousand 
men  at  Johnston,  Pa.  u  We  always  try  to  beat  our  last 
batch  of  rails.  That  is  all  the  secret  we  ’ve  got,  and 
we  don’t  care  who  knows  it.” 

“  I  don’t  try  to  see  how  cheap  a  machine  I  can  pro¬ 
duce,  but  how  good  a  machine,”  said  the  late  John  C. 
Whitin  of  Northbridge,  Mass.,  to  a  customer  who  com¬ 
plained  of  the  high  price  of  some  cotton  machinery. 
Business  men  soon  learned  what  this  meant;  and 
when  there  was  occasion  to  advertise  any  machinery 
for  sale,  New  England  cotton  manufacturers  were  ac¬ 
customed  to  state  the  number  of  years  it  had  been  in 
use  and  add,  as  an  all-sufficient  guaranty  of  North- 
bridge  products,  “  Whitin  make.”  Put  character  into 
your  work  :  it  pays. 

“  My  whole  ambition  is  to  establish  for  myself,  and 
to  deserve,  the  reputation  of  a  man  of  science,”  wrote 
J oseph  Henry,  when  a  young  man.  As  a  natural  result 
of  following  his  ambition  in  this  way,  Professor  Joseph 
Henry  could  say  years  afterward,  when  his  name  was 
held  in  high  honor  in  every  department  of  science : 
“  The  various  offices  of  honor  and  responsibility  which 
I  hold,  nine  in  number,  have  all  been  pressed  upon  me : 
I  never  occupied  a  position  for  which  I  have,  of  my  own 
will  and  action,  been  made  a  candidate.” 

a  Madam,”  said  the  sculptor  H.  K.  Brown,  as  he 
admired  a  statue  in  alabaster  made  by  a  youth  in  his 
teens,  this  boy  has  something  in  him.”  It  was  the 
figure  of  an  Irishman  who  worked  for  the  Ward  family 
in  Brooklyn  years  ago,  and  gave  with  minutest  fidelity 
not  merely  the  man’s  features  and  expression,  but  even 
the  patches  in  his  trousers,  the  rent  in  his  coat,  and  the 


278 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


creases  in  his  narrow-brimmed  stove-pipe  hat.  Mr. 
Brown  saw  the  statue  at  the  house  of  a  lady  living  at 
Hewburg-on-the-Hudson.  Six  years  later  he  invited  her 
brother,  J.  Q.  A.  Ward,  to  become  a  pupil  in  his  studio. 
To-day  the  name  of  Ward  is  that  of  the  most  prosperous 
of  all  American  sculptors. 

“  Sculpture  is  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world,”  said  a 
rustic.  “  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  take  a  big  chunk  of 
marble  and  a  hammer  and  chisel,  make  up  your  mind 
what  you  are  about  to  create,  and  then  chip  off  all  the 
marble  you  don’t  want.” 

“  From  whom  did  the  artist  paint  that  head  ?  ”  asked 
a  visitor  of  a  “model”  in  a  gallery.  “From  yours 
obediently,  madam.  I  sit  for  the  ’eads  of  all  ’is  ’oly 
men.”  “  He  must  find  you  a  very  useful  person  ?  ” 
“Yes,  madam,  I  order  his  frames,  stretch  his  canvas, 
wash  his  brushes,  set  his  palette,  and  mix  his  colors. 
All  he ’s  got  to  do  is  to  shove  ’em  on.” 

“  Paint  me  just  as  I  am,  warts  and  all,”  said  Crom¬ 
well,  to  the  artist  who  had  omitted  a  mole,  thinking  to 
please  the  great  man. 

“  I  can  remember  when  you  blacked  my  father’s 
shoes,”  said  one  member  of  the  House  of  Commons  to 
another  in  the  heat  of  debate.  “True  enough,”  was 
the  prompt  reply,  “  but  did  I  not  black  them  well  ?  ” 

“  It  is  easy  to  tell  good  indigo,”  said  an  old  lady. 
“  Just  take  a  lump  and  put  it  into  water,  and  if  it  is 
good,  it  will  either  sink  or  swim,  I  am  not  sure  which'* 
but  never  mind,  you  can  try  it  for  yourself.” 

John  B.  Gough  told  of  a  colored  preacher  who,  wish 
ing  his  congregation  to  fresco  the  recess  back  of  the 
pulpit,  suddenly  closed  his  Bible  and  said,  “  There,  my 
bredren,  de  Gospel  will  not  be  dispensed  with  any  more 
from  dis  pulpit  till  de  collection  am  sufficient  to  fri¬ 
cassee  dis  abscess.” 

When  troubled  with  deafness,  Wellington  consulted 
a  celebrated  physician,  who  put  strong  caustic  into  hia 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY . 


279 


ear,  causing  an  inflammation  which  threatened  his  life. 
The  doctor  apologized,  expressed  great  regrets,  and 
said  that  the  blunder  would  ruin  him.  “No,”  said 
Wellington,  “  I  will  never  mention  it.”  “  But  you  wil1 
allow  me  to  attend  you,  so  people  will  not  withdraw 
their  confidence  ?  ”  “No,”  said  the  Iron  Duke,  “that 

would  be  lying.” 

“  Suppose  you  had  called  to  see  Jenny  Lind  on  a  day 
when  she  was  singing,”  said  Mrs.  Beeves ;  “  she  would 
probably  come  into  the  room  with  a  bundle  of  music  in 
her  hand,  put  it  on  a  chair  and  sit  down  upon  it,  talk 
away  pleasantly  enough  for  a  few  minutes,  turn  to  a 
passage  in  one  of  the  pieces  and  hum  it  over.  Having 
satisfied  herself  of  her  correctness,  she  would  replace 
it  and  sit  down  again  as  calmly  as  possible,  and  resume 
the  conversation  at  the  point  it  was  broken  off.” 

“I  am  reading  over  Macbeth,”  said  Mrs.  Siddons, 
when  found  musing  over  Shakespeare  after  she  had 
left  the  stage;  “and  I  am  amazed  to  discover  some 
new  points  in  the  character  which  I  never  found  out  in 
acting  it.” 

“One  language  well  learned,”  says  Bobert  Waters, 
“is  better  than  a  smattering  of  twenty.  For  in  the 
proper  learning  of  one  language  you  get  a  training  of 
the  mind,  an  increase  of  mental  power,  which  is  never 
gotten  by  smatterings.” 

“  Father,”  said  a  boy,  “  I  saw  an  immense  number  of 
dogs  —  five  hundred,  I  am  sure  —  in  our  street,  last 
night.”  “Surely  not  so  many,”  said  the  father. 
u  Well,  there  were  one  hundred,  I  ’in  quite  sure.” 
“It  could  not  be,”  said  the  father;  “I  don’t  think 
there  are  a  hundred  dogs  in  our  village.”  “Well,  sir, 
it  could  not  be  less  than  ten :  this  I  am  quite  certain 
of.”  “  I  will  not  believe  you  saw  ten  even,”  said  the 
father;  “for  you  spoke  as  confidently  of  seeing  five 
hundred  as  of  seeing  this  smaller  number.  You  have 
contradicted  yourself  twice  already,  and  now  I  cannot 


280 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


believe  you.”  “Well,  sir,”  said  the  disconcerted  boy, 
“  I  saw  at  least  our  Dash  and  another  one.” 

We  condemn  the  boy  for  exaggerating  in  order  to 
tell  a  wonderful  story ;  but  how  much  more  truthful 
are  they  who  “never  saw  it  rain  so  before,”  or  who 
call  day  after  day  the  hottest  of  the  summer  or  the 
coldest  of  the  winter  ? 

There  is  nothing  which  all  mankind  venerate  and 
admire  so  much  as  simple  truth,  exempt  from  artifice, 
duplicity,  and  design.  It  exhibits  at  once  a  strength 
of  character  and  integrity  of  purpose  in  which  all  are 
willing  to  confide. 

There  are  a  thousand  ways  of  lying.  Ten  lies  are 
acted  for  every  one  spoken.  Society  is  a  lying  organi¬ 
zation.  To  say  nice  things  merely  to  avoid  giving  of¬ 
fence  ;  to  keep  silent  rather  than  speak  the  truth ;  to 
equivocate,  to  evade,  to  dodge,  to  say  what  is  expedient 
rather  than  what  is  truthful ;  to  shirk  the  truth ;  to 
face  both  ways  ;  to  exaggerate  ;  to  seem  to  concur  with 
another’s  opinions  when  you  do  not;  to  deceive  by  a 
glance  of  the  eye,  a  nod  of  the  head,  a  smile,  a  gesture ; 
to  lack  sincerity ;  to  assume  to  know  or  think  or  feel 
what  you  do  not  —  all  these  are  but  various  manifesta¬ 
tions  of  hollowness  and  falsehood  resulting  from  want 
of  accuracy. 

We  find  no  lying,  no  inaccuracy,  no  slipshod  business 
in  nature.  Boses  blossom  and  crystals  form  with  the 
same  precision  of  tint  and  angle  to-day  as  in  Eden  on 
the  morning  of  creation.  The  rose  in  the  queen’s 
garden  is  not  more  beautiful,  more  fragrant,  more  ex¬ 
quisitely  perfect,  than  that  which  blooms  and  blushes 
unheeded  amid  the  fern-decked  brush  by  the  roadside, 
or  in  some  far-off  glen  where  no  human  eye  ever  sees  it. 
The  crystal  found  deep  in  the  earth  is  constructed  with 
the  same  fidelity  as  that  formed  above  ground.  Ever, 
the  tiny  snowflake  whose  destiny  is  to  become  an  ap¬ 
parently  insignificant,  and  a  wholly  unnoticed  part  oi 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY.  281 

an  enormous  bank,  assumes  its  shape  of  ethereal  beauty 
as  faithfully  as  if  preparing  for  some  grand  exhibition. 
Planets  rush  with  dizzy  sweep  through  almost  limitless 
courses,  yet  return  to  equinox  or  solstice  at  the  appointed 
second,  their  very  movement  being  “  the  uniform  man! 
festation  of  the  will  of  God.” 

The  marvelous  resources  and  growth  of  America 
have  developed  an  unfortunate  tendency  to  overstate, 
overdraw,  and  exaggerate.  It  seems  strange  that  there 
should  be  so  strong  a  temptation  to  exaggerate  in  a 
country  where  the  truth  is  more  wonderful  than  fiction. 
The  positive  is  stronger  than  the  superlative,  but  we 
ignore  this  fact  in  our  speech.  Indeed,  it  is  really  dif¬ 
ficult  to  ascertain  the  exact  truth  in  America.  Eead 
the  advertisements  in  our  papers  and  magazines.  No 
one  believes  half  of  them,  yet  enough  is  believed  to 
bring  fortunes  to  thousands  who  would  starve  if  they 
told  the  unvarnished  truth  about  their  goods,  patent 
medicines,  and  wares.  How  many  American  fortunes 
are  built  on  misrepresentation,  needlessly,  for  nothing 
else  is  half  so  strong  as  truth. 

“  Does  the  devil  lie  ?  ”  was  asked  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne.  “No,  for  then  even  he  could  not  exist.” 
Truth  is  necessary  to  permanency. 

In  Siberia  a  traveler  found  men  who  could  see  the 
satellites  of  Jupiter  with  the  naked  eye.  These  men 
have  made  little  advance  in  civilization,  yet  they  are 
far  superior  to  us  in  their  accuracy  of  vision.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  not  a  single  astronomical  discovery  of 
importance  has  been  made  through  a  large  telescope, 
the  men  who  have  advanced  our  knowledge  of  that 
science  the  most,  working  with  ordinary , instruments 
backed  by  most  accurately  trained  minds  and  eyes. 

A  double  convex  lens  three  feet  in  diameter  is  worth 
$60,000.  Its  adjustment  is  so  delicate  that  the  human 
hand  is  the  only  instrument  thus  far  known  suitable 
for  giving  the  final  polish,  and  one  sweep  of  the  hand 


282 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT, 


more  than  is  needed,  Alvan  Clark  says,  would  impair  the 
correctness  of  the  glass.  During  the  test  of  the  great 
glass  which  he  made  for  Bussia,  the  workmen  turned  it 
a  little  with  their  hands.  “  Wait,  boys,  let  it  cool  be¬ 
fore  making  another  trial,”  said  Clark ;  “  the  poise  is  so 
delicate  that  the  heat  from  your  hands  affects  it.” 

Mr.  Clark’s  love  of  accuracy  has  made  his  name  a 
synonym  of  exactness  the  world  over.  Character  is 
power :  put  it  into  your  work. 

“No,  I  can’t  do  it,  it  is  impossible,”  said  Webster, 
when  pressed  to  speak  on  a  question  soon  to  come  up, 
toward  the  close  of  a  Congressional  session.  “  I  am  so 
pressed  with  other  duties  that  I  have  n’t  time  to  prepare 
myself  to  speak  upon  that?  theme.”  “Ah,  but,  Mr. 
Webster,  you  always  speak  well  upon  any  subject. 
You  never  fail.”  “But  that’s  the  very  reason,”  said 
the  orator,  “because  I  never  allow  myself  to  speak 
upon  any  subject  without  first  making  that  subject 
thoroughly  my  own.  I  have  n’t  time  to  do  that  in  this 
instance.  Hence  I  must  refuse.” 

When  Andrew  Johnson,  in  a  great  speech  at  Wash¬ 
ington,  said  that  he  had  begun  his  political  career  as  an 
alderman,  and  had  held  office  through  all  the  branches 
of  the  legislature,  a  man  in  the  audience  shouted, 
“  From  a  tailor  up.”  “  Some  gentleman  says  I  have 
been  a  tailor,”  said  the  President ;  “  that  does  not  dis¬ 
concert  me  in  the  least,  for  when  I  was  a  tailor,  I  had 
the  reputation  of  being  a  good  one,  and  making  close 
fits.  I  was  always  punctual  with  my  customers,  and 
always  did  good  work.” 

Bufus  Choate  would  plead  before  a  shoemaker  jus¬ 
tice  of  the  peace,  in  a  petty  case,  with  all  the  fervor 
and  careful  attention  to  detail  with  which  he  addressed 
the  United  States  Supreme  Court. 

“  Whatever  is  right  to  do,”  said  an  eminent  writer, 
“  should  be  done  with  our  best  care,  strength,  and  faith 
fulness  of  purpose  j  we  have  no  scales  by  which  we  can 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


283 


weigh  our  faithfulness  to  duties,  or  determine  their 
relative  importance  in  God’s  eyes.  That  which  seems 
a  trifle  to  us  may  be  the  secret  spring  which  shall  move 
the  issues  of  life  and  death.” 

“  There  goes  a  man  that  has  been  in  hell,”  the  Floren¬ 
tines  would  say  when  Dante  passed,  so  realistic  seemed 
to  them  his  description  of  the  nether  world. 

a  Here  I  stand ;  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  God  help 
me !  ”  exclaimed  Luther  at  the  Diet  of  Worms,  facing 
his  foes.  Many  a  man  has  faced  death  rather  than  vary 
a  hair’s  breadth  from  truth. 

“  There  is  only  one  real  failure  in  life  possible,”  said 
Canon  Farrar  ;  “  and  that  is,  not  to  be  true  to  the  best 
one  knows.” 

“  It  is  quite  astonishing,  ”  Grove  said  of  Beethoven, 
“  to  find  the  length  of  time  during  which  some  of  the 
best  known  instrumental  melodies  remained  in  his 
thoughts  till  they  were  finally  used,  or  the  crude,  vague, 
commonplace  shape  in  which  they  were  first  written 
down.  The  more  they  are  elaborated,  the  more  fresh 
and  spontaneous  they  become.” 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  would  walk  across  Milan  to 
change  a  single  tint  or  the  slightest  detail  in  his  famous 
picture  of  the  Last  Supper.  Napoleon,  when  sleepless, 
would  examine  the  returns  of  his  army,  which  he  kept 
under  his  pillow.  During  an  overture  at  the  opera  he 
would  set  himself  such  a  problem  as  this  :  “  I  have  ten 
thousand  men  at  Strasburg,  fifteen  thousand  at  Magde¬ 
burg,  twenty  thousand  at  Wurzburg.  By  what  stages 
must  they  march  so  as  to  arrive  at  Batisbon  on  three 
successive  days  ?  ”  “  Easy  writing,”  said  Sheridan, 

(( is  commonly  d — d  hard  reading.”  He  wrote  and  re¬ 
wrote  most  of  his  brilliant  comedies,  again  and  again. 
“  Bolingbroke,”  said  Swift,  “  would  plod  whole  days 
and  nights  like  the  lowest  clerk  in  his  office.”  u  Every 
fine  was  then  written  twice  over  by  Pope,”  said  his 
publisher  Dodsley,  of  manuscript  brought  to  be  copied 


284 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  I  gave  him  a  clean  transcript,  which  he  sent  me  some 
time  afterward  for  the  press  with  every  line  written 
twice  over  a  second  time.”  Gibbon  wrote  his  memoir 
nine  times,  and  the  first  chapters  of  his  history  eighteen 
times.  Of  one  of  his  works  Montesquieu  said  to  a 
friend:  “  You  will  read  it  in  a  few  hours,  but  I  assure 
you  it  has  cost  me  so  much  labor  that  it  has  whitened 
my  hair.”  He  had  made  it  his  study  by  day  and  his 
dream  by  night,  the  alpha  and  omega  of  his  aims  and 
objects.  “  He  who  does  not  write  as  well  as  he  can  on 
every  occasion,”  said  George  Ripley,  “  will  soon  form 
the  habit  of  not  writing  well  on  any  occasion.”  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  said  that  whatever  service  he  had  ren¬ 
dered  to  humanity  was  not  owing  to  any  extraordinary 
sagacity  he  possessed,  but  solely  to  industry  and  patient 
thought.  He  wrote  “  Principia  ”  with  great  care.  His 
great  love  of  accuracy  appears  in  all  his  works.  Pascal 
wrote  one  of  his  provincial  letters  sixteen  times. 
Buffon  wrote  his  “Epoques  de  la  Nature  ”  eleven  times 
before  he  was  willing  to  have  it  published. 

An  accomplished  entomologist  thought  he  would  per¬ 
fect  his  knowledge  by  a  few  lessons  under  Professor 
Agassiz.  The  latter  handed  him  a  dead  fish  and  told 
him  to  use  his  eyes.  Two  hours  later  he  examined  his 
new  pupil,  but  soon  remarked,  “  You  have  n’t  really 
looked  at  the  fish  yet.  You  ’ll  have  to  try  again.” 
After  a  second  examination  he  shook  his  head,  saying, 
“  You  do  not  show  that  you  can  use  your  eyes.”  This 
roused  the  pupil  to  earnest  effort,  and  he  became  so 
interested  in  things  he  had  never  noticed  before  that 
he  did  not  see  Agassiz  when  he  came  for  the  third 
examination.  “  That  will  do,”  said  the  great  scientist. 
“  I  now  see  that  you  can  use  your  eyes.” 

Eor  many  years  Michael  Angelo  studied  anatomy 
even  more  than  the  physicians  of  his  day.  He  drew 
his  figures  in  skeleton,  added  muscles,  fat,  and  skin 
successively,  and  then  draped  them. 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY.  285 

Reynolds  said  he  could  go  on  retouching  a  picture 
forever. 

The  captain  of  a  Nantucket  whaler  told  the  man  at 
the  wheel  to  steer  by  the  North  Star,  but  was  awakened 
towards  morning  by  a  request  for  another  star  to  steer 
by,  as  they  had  “  sailed  by  the  other.” 

Stephen  Girard  was  precision  itself.  He  did  not 
illow  those  in  his  employ  to  deviate  in  the  slightest 
degree  from  his  iron-clad  orders.  He  believed  that  no 
great  success  is  possible  without  the  most  rigid  accu¬ 
racy  in  everything.  Although  one  of  his  captains  had 
saved  several  thousand  dollars  by  not  buying  a  cargo 
of  coffee  as  instructed,  he  discharged  the  man  at  once, 
saying,  “You  should  have  obeyed  your  orders  if  you 
had  broken  me.” 

He  did  not  vary  from  a  promise  in  the  slightest  de 
gree.  People  knew  that  his  word  was  not  “pretty 
good,”  but  absolutely  good.  He  left  nothing  to  chance. 
Every  detail  of  business  was  calculated  and  planned  to 
a  nicety.  He  was  as  exact  and  precise  even  in  the 
smallest  trifles  as  Napoleon ;  yet  his  brother  merchants 
attributed  his  superior  success  to  good  luck. 

In  1805  Napoleon  broke  up  the  great  camp  he  had 
formed  on  the  shores  of  the  English  Channel,  and  gave 
orders  for  his  mighty  host  to  defile  toward  the  Danube. 
Vast  and  various  as  were  the  projects  fermenting  in  his 
brain,  however,  he  did  not  content  himself  with  giving 
the  order,  and  leaving  the  elaboration  of  its  details  to 
his  lieutenants.  To  details  and  minutiae  which  inferior 
captains  would  have  deemed  too  microscopic  for  their 
notice,  he  gave  such  exhaustive  attention  that,  befoie 
the  bugle  had  sounded  for  the  march,  he  had  planned 
the  exact  route  which  every  regiment  was  to  follow,  the 
exact  day  and  hour  it  was  to  leave  that  station,  as  well 
as  the  precise  moment  when  it  was  to  reach  its  destina¬ 
tion.  These  details,  so  thoroughly  premeditated,  were 
carried  out  to  the  letter,  and  the  result  or  fruit  of  that 


286 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


memorable  march  was  the  victory  of  Austerlitz,  which 
sealed  the  fate  of  Europe  for  ten  years. 

When  a  noted  French  preacher  speaks  in  Notre 
Dame,  the  scholars  of  Paris  throng  the  cathedral  to 
hear  his  fascinating,  eloquent,  and  polished  discourses. 
This  brilliant  finish  is  the  result  of  most  patient  work, 
as  he  delivers  but  five  or  six  sermons  a  year.  Dr.  Way 
land  gave  the  thought  of  two  years  to  his  sermon  on 
the  moral  dignity  of  missions. 

When  Sir  Walter  Scott  visited  a  ruined  castle  about 
which  he  wished  to  write,  he  wrote  in  a  notebook  the 
separate  names  of  the  grasses  and  wild  flowers  growing 
near,  saying  that  only  by  such  means  can  a  writer  be 
natural. 

Macaulay  never  allowed  a  sentence  to  stand  until  it 
was  as  good  as  he  could  make  it. 

Besides  his  scrapbooks,  Garfield  had  a  large  case  of 
some  fifty  pigeon-holes,  labeled  “ Anecdotes,”  “Elec¬ 
toral  Laws  and  Commissions/5  “  French  Spoliation/5 
“General  Politics/5  “Geneva  Award/5  “Parliamentary 
Decisions/5  “  Public  Men/5  “  State  Politics/5  “  Tariff/5 
“The  Press/5  “United  States  History/5  etc.;  every 
valuable  hint  he  could  get  being  preserved  in  the  cold 
exactness  of  black  and  white.  When  he  chose  to  make 
careful  preparation  on  a  subject,  no  other  speaker  could 
command  so  great  an  array  of  facts.  Accurate  people 
are  methodical  people,  and  method  means  character. 

“  I  know  of  only  three  Germans  in  the  U  nited  States 
who  have  mastered  English/5  says  Bobert  Waters. 
“  I  mean  Mr.  Carl  Schurz,  the  late  Professor  Schem,  and 
John  B.  Stallo  of  Ohio;  and  of  only  one  American  who 
has  mastered  German,  Mr.  Bayard  Taylor.  The  rest 
are  mere  smatterers,  who  have  learned  just  enough  (  to 
get  along ; 5  and  this  is  all  they  wanted  to  do.55 

“  Am  offered  10,000  bushels  wheat  on  your  account  at 
$1.00.  Shall  I  buy,  or  is  it  too  high  ? 55  telegraphed 
a  San  Francisco  merchant  to  one  in  Sacramento.  “  No 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


287 


price  too  high,”  came  back  over  the  wire  instead  of 
“No.  Price  too  high,”  as  was  intended.  The  omis¬ 
sion  of  a  point  cost  the  Sacramento  dealer  $1,000. 
How  many  thousands  have  lost  their  wealth  or  lives, 
and  how  many  frightful  accidents  have  occurred  through 
carelessness  in  sending  messages  ! 

“  The  accurate  boy  is  always  the  favored  one,”  said 
President  Tuttle.  “  Those  who  employ  men  do  not 
wish  to  be  on  the  constant  lookout,  as  though  they 
were  rogues  or  fools.  If  a  carpenter  must  stand  at  his 
journeyman’s  elbow  to  be  sure  his  work  is  right,  or  if  a 
cashier  must  run  over  his  bookkeeper’s  columns,  he 
might  as  well  do  the  work  himself  as  employ  another 
to  do  it  in  that  way  ;  and  it  is  very  certain  that  the 
employer  will  get  rid  of  such  a  blunderer  as  soon  as 
he  can.” 

Twenty  things  half  done  do  not  make  one  well  done. 

“  If  you  make  a  good  pin,”  said  a  successful  manu¬ 
facturer,  “you  will  earn  more  than  if  you  make  a  bad 
steam-engine.” 

All  bad  work  is  lying.  It  is  thoroughly  dishonest. 
You  pay  for  having  work  done  well ;  if  it  is  done 
badly  and  dishonestly,  you  are  robbed. 

’T  is  strange,  but  the  masterpiece,  a  perfect  man,  is 
the  result  of  such  an  extreme  delicacy,  that  the  most 
unobserved  flaw  in  the  boy  will  neutralize  the  most 
aspiring  genius,  and  spoil  the  work. 

“There  are  women,”  said  Fields,  “whose  stitches 
always  come  out,  and  the  buttons  they  sew  on  fly  off 
on  the  mildest  provocation  ;  there  are  other  women 
who  use  the  same  needle  and  thread,  and  you  may  tug 
away  at  their  work  on  your  coat,  or  waistcoat,  and  you 
CEfrn’t  start  a  button  in  a  generation.” 

“Carelessness,”  “indifference,”  “ slouchiness,”  “slip 
shod  financiering,”  could  be  truthfully  written  over  the 
graves  of  thousands  who  have  failed  in  life.  How 
many  clerks,  cashiers,  clergymen,  editors,  and  profea* 


288 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


sors  in  colleges  have  lost  position  and  prestige  by  care* 
lessness  and  inaccuracy ! 

“  You  would  be  the  greatest  man  of  your  age,  Grat¬ 
tan,”  said  Curran,  “  if  you  would  buy  a  few  yards  of  red 
tape  and  tie  up  your  bills  and  papers.”  Curran  realized 
that  methodical  people  are  accurate  as  a  rule,  and  suc¬ 
cessful. 

Of  method  or  system,  Fuller  says :  “  Marshal  thy 
notions  into  a  handsome  method.  One  will  carry  twice 
more  weight  trussed  and  packed  up  in  bundles,  than 
when  it  lies  untowardly  flapping  and  hanging  about  his 
shoulders.”  Cecil  says :  “  Method  is  like  packing 

things  in  a  box  :  a  good  packer  will  get  in  half  as  much 
again  as  a  bad  one.”  Said  Walter  Scott:  “When  a 
regiment  is  under  march,  the  rear  is  often  thrown  into 
confusion  because  the  front  does  not  move  steadily  and 
without  interruption.  It  is  the  same  thing  with  busi¬ 
ness.  If  that  which  is  first  in  hand  be  not  instantly, 
steadily,  and  regularly  dispatched,  other  things  accu¬ 
mulate  behind,  till  affairs  begin  to  press  all  at  once,  and 
no  human  brain  can  stand  the  confusion.” 

Bergh  tells  of  a  man  beginning  business  who  opened 
and  shut  his  shop  regularly  at  the  same  hour  every  day 
for  weeks,  without  selling  two  cents’  worth,  yet  whose 
application  attracted  attention  and  paved  the  way  to 
fortune. 

“  He  who  every  morning  plans  the  transactions  of  the 
day,”  says  Victor  Hugo,  “and  follows  out  that  plan, 
carries  a  thread  that  will  guide  him  through  the  laby¬ 
rinth  of  the  most,  busy  life.  The  orderly  arrangement 
of  his  time  is  like  a  ray  of  light  which  darts  itself 
through  all  his  occupations.  But  where  no  plan  is  laid, 
where  the  disposal  of  time  is  surrendered  merely  to 
the  chance  of  incidents,  all  things  lie  huddled  together 
in  one  chaos,  which  admits  of  neither  distribution  nor 
review.” 

A.  T.  Stewart  was  extremely  systematic  and  precise 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


289 


in  all  his  transactions.  Method  ruled  in  every  depart* 
ment  of  his  store,  and  for  every  delinquency  a  penalty 
was  rigidly  enforced.  His  eye  was  upon  his  business 
in  all  its  ramifications ;  he  mastered  every  detail  and 
worked  hard. 

From  the  time  Jonas  Chickering  began  to  work  for  a 
piano-maker,  he  wras  noted  for  the  pains  and  care  with 
which  he  did  everything.  To  him  there  were  no  trifles 
in  the  manufacturing  of  pianos.  Neither  time  nor 
labor  was  of  any  account  to  him,  compared  with  accu¬ 
racy  and  knowledge.  He  soon  made  pianos  in  a  fac¬ 
tory  of  his  own.  He  determined  to  make  an  instru¬ 
ment  yielding  the  fullest  and  richest  volume  of  melody 
with  the  least  exertion  to  the  player,  withstanding  at¬ 
mospheric  changes,  and  preserving  its  purity  and  truth¬ 
fulness  of  tone.  He  resolved  each  piano  should  be  an 
improvement  upon  the  one  which  preceded  it ;  perfection 
was  his  aim.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he  gave  the  finish¬ 
ing  touch  to  each  of  his  instruments,  and  would  trust  it 
to  no  one  else.  He  permitted  no  irregularity  in  work¬ 
manship  or  sales;  and  was  characterized  by  simplicity, 
transparency,  and  straightforwardness. 

He  distanced  all  competitors.  Chicke ring’s  name 
was  such  a  power  that  one  piano-maker  had  his  name 
changed  to  Chickering  by  the  Massachusetts  legisla¬ 
ture,  and  put  it  on  his  pianos ;  but  Jonas  Chickering 
sent  a  petition  to  the  legislature,  and  the  name  was 
changed  back.  Character  has  a  commercial  as  well  as 
an  ethical  value. 

Joseph  M.  W.  Turner  was  intended  by  his  father  for 
a  barber,  but  he  showed  such  a  taste  for  drawing  that 
a  reluctant  permission  was  given  for  him  to  follow  art 
as  a  profession.  He  soon  became  skillful,  but  as  he 
lacked  means  he  took  anything  to  do  that  came  in  his 
way,  frequently  illustrating  guidebooks  and  almanacs. 
But  though  the  pay  was  very  small  the  work  was  never 
careless.  His  work  was  worth  several  times  what  he 


290 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


received  for  it,  but  the  price  was  increased  and  work  of 
higher  grade  given  him  simply  because  men  seek  the 
services  of  those  who  are  known  to  be  faithful,  and  em¬ 
ploy  them  in  as  lofty  work  as  they  seem  able  to  do. 
And  so  he  toiled  upward  until  he  began  to  employ  him 
self,  his  work  sure  of  a  market  at  some  price,  and  the 
price  increasing  as  other  men  began  to  get  glimpses  of 
the  transcendent  art  revealed  in  his  paintings,  an  art 
not  fully  comprehended  even  in  our  day.  He  surpassed 
the  acknowledged  masters  in  various  fields  of  landscape 
work,  and  left  matchless  studies  of  natural  scenery  in 
lines  never  before  attempted.  What  Shakespeare  is  in 
literature,  Turner  is  in  his  special  field,  the  greatest 
name  on  record. 

The  demand  for  perfection  in  the  nature  of  Wendell 
Phillips  was  wonderful.  Every  word  must  exactly 
express  the  shade  of  his  thought ;  every  phrase  must  be 
of  due  length  and  cadence  ;  every  sentence  must  be  per¬ 
fectly  balanced  before  it  left  his  lips.  Exact  precision 
characterized  his  style.  He  was  easily  the  first  forensic 
orator  America  has  produced.  The  rhythmical  fullness 
and  poise  of  his  periods  are  remarkable. 

Lord  Brougham  had  such  a  love  for  excellence  that 
no  amount  of  labor  seemed  too  great  for  him.  No  mat¬ 
ter  what  he  did,  no  one  should  do  it  better.  To  this 
one  thing  he  owed  his  success. 

Roger  Sherman  was  the  best  shoemaker  in  town,  and 
one  of  the  best  statesmen  later  in  life.  Franklin  was 
noted  for  his  thoroughness  even  when  a  printer. 

Alexander  Dumas  prepared  his  manuscript  with  the 
greatest  care.  When  consulted  by  a  friend  whose  arti¬ 
cle  had  been  rejected  by  several  publishers,  he  advised 
him  to  have  it  handsomely  copied  by  a  professional 
penman,  and  then  change  the  title.  The  advice  was 
taken,  and  the  article  eagerly  accepted  by  one  of  the 
very  publishers  who  had  refused  it  before.  Many  able 
essays  have  been  rejected  because  of  poor  penmanship 


ENAMORED  OF  ACCURACY. 


291 


One  of  the  first  articles  which  George  H.  Lewes  sent  to 
the  “  Edinburgh  Review  ”  was  returned  with  a  request 
to  rearrange  it  throughout.  Although  greatly  vexed, 
Lewes  complied,  and  was  so  much  pleased  with  the 
result  that  he  never  again  sent  a  paper  to  the  press 
until  it  had  been  rewritten  from  one  to  three  times 
Macaulay  wrote  his  best  essays  two  or  three  times. 

We  must  strive  after  accuracy  as  we  would  after  wis¬ 
dom,  or  hidden  treasure,  or  anything  we  would  attain. 
Determine  to  form  exact  business  habits.  Avoid  slip¬ 
shod  financiering  as  you  would  the  plague.  Careless 
and  indifferent  habits  would  soon  ruin  a  millionaire. 
Nearly  every  very  successful  man  is  accurate  and  pains¬ 
taking.  Accuracy  means  character,  and  character  is 
power. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 

The  tissue  of  the  life  to  be 
We  weave  with  colors  all  our  own, 

And  in  the  field  of  destiny 
We  reap  as  we  have  sown. 

Whittier. 

Men  at  some  times  are  masters  of  their  fates; 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars, 

But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings. 

Shakespeare. 

Every  one  is  the  son  of  his  own  works.  —  Cervantes. 

He  that  would  bring  home  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  must  carry  out  the 
wealth  of  the  Indies.  — Old  Adage. 

A  vase  is  begun ;  why,  as  the  wheel  goes  round,  does  it  turn  out  a 
pitcher  ?  —  Horace. 

All  looks  yellow  to  the  jaundiced  eye.  —  Pope. 

“  Let’s  find  the  sunny  side  of  men, 

Or  be  believers  in  it  : 

A  light  there  is  in  every  soul 
That  takes  the  pains  to  win  it. 

Oh  !  there’s  a  slumbering  good  in  all, 

And  we  perchance  may  wake  it ; 

Our  hands  contain  the  magic  wand  : 

This  life  is  what  we  make  it.” 

“  There  is  dew  in  one  flower  and  not  in  another,”  said 
Beecher,  “  because  one  opens  its  cup  and  takes  it  in, 
while  the  other  closes  itself  and  the  drop  runs  off.” 

Are  you  dissatisfied  with  to-day’s  success  ?  It  is  the 
harvest  from  yesterday’s  sowing.  Do  you  dream  of  a 
golden  morrow  ?  You  will  reap  what  you  are  sowing 
to-day.  We  get  out  of  life  just  what  we  put  into  it. 
The  world  has  for  us  just  what  we  have  for  it.  It  is 
a  mirror  which  reflects  the  faces  we  make.  If  we  smile 
and  are  glad,  it  reflects  a  cheerful,  sunny  face.  If  we 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 


293 


are  sour,  irritable,  mean,  and  contemptible,  it  still  shows 
us  a  true  copy  of  ourselves.  The  world  is  a  whispering- 
gallery  which  returns  the  echo  of  our  own  voices. 
What  we  say  of  others  is  said  of  us.  We  shall  find 
nothing  in  the  world  which  we  do  not  first  find  in  our¬ 
selves. 

It  rests  with  the  workman  whether  a  rude  piece  of 
marble  shall  be  squared  into  a  horse-block,  or  carved 
into  an  Apollo,  a  Psyche,  or  a  Venus  de  Milo.  It  is 
yours,  if  you  choose,  to  develop  a  spiritual  form  more 
beautiful  than  any  of  these,  instinct  with  immortal  life, 
refulgent  with  all  the  glory  of  character. 

About  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  light¬ 
house,  called  Dunston  Pillar,  was  built  on  Lincoln 
Heath  to  guide  travelers  over  a  trackless,  barren  waste, 
a  veritable  desert,  almost  in  the  heart  of  England.  But 
now  it  stands  in  the  midst  of  a  fertile  region.  No 
barren  heath  has  been  visible,  even  from  its  top,  for 
more  than  a  generation.  Superphosphate  of  lime  has 
effected  this  magic  transformation.  Many  a  barren* 
useless  life  has  been  made  fruitful  by  the  inspiration  o? 
a  high  ideal.  Improvement  hardly  less  radical  is  pos 
sible  even  in  the  best  of  lives.  Apply  the  superphos 
phate  of  lofty  purpose  and  your  useless  life  will  blossom 
like  the  rose. 

Somehow  we  seem  to  have  an  innate  conviction  that, 
although  we  are  free,  yet  there  is  a  kind  of  fatality 
within  us  which  hedges  us  about,  limits  our  liberty, 
places  bounds  to  our  possibilities,  and  gives  direction  to 
our  action.  But  freedom  is  also  a  part  of  fate,  and 
what  seems  like  inexorable  destiny  is  but  natural  limi¬ 
tation.  Knowledge,  energy,  push,  annul  fate.  The 
oroader  we  become,  the  more  freedom  we  have.  We 
are  given  all  the  liberty  we  can  use.  Pate  recedes  as 
knowledge  advances.  Only  he  who  determines  to  rise 
superior  to  what  is  commonly  meant  by  destiny  will 
ever  achieve  great  success. 


294 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


u  I  saw  a  delicate  flower  liad  grown  up  two  feet  high,” 
said  Thoreau,  “  between  the  horse’s  path  and  the  wheel* 
track.  An  inch  more  to  the  right  or  left  had  sealed  its 
fate,  or  an  inch  higher  j  and  yet  it  lived  to  flourish  as 
much  as  if  it  had  a  thousand  acres  of  untrodden  space 
around  it,  and  never  knew  the  danger  it  incurred.  It 
did  not  borrow  trouble,  nor  invite  an  evil  fate  by  appre¬ 
hending  it.” 

“  I  resolved  that,  like  the  sun,  so  long  as  my  day 
lasted,  I  would  look  on  the  bright  side  of  everything,” 
said  Hood. 

“  There  is  always  a  black  spot  in  our  sunshine,”  says 
Carlyle ;  “  it  is  the  shadow  of  ourselves.”  Get  out  of 
your  own  light. 

Our  minds  are  given  us  but  our  characters  we  make. 
The  lie  never  told  for  want  of  courage,  the  licentious¬ 
ness  never  indulged  in  for  fear  of  public  rebuke,  the  ir¬ 
reverence  of  the  heart,  are  just  as  effectual  in  staining 
the  character  as  though  the  world  knew  all  about  them. 
A  good  character  is  a  precious  thing,  above  rubies,  gold, 
crowns,  or  kingdoms,  and  the  work  of  making  it  is  the 
noblest  on  earth. 

“  I  live  in  a  constant  endeavor  to  fence  against  the 
infirmities  of  ill  health  and  other  evils  by  mirth,”  said 
Sterne  ;  “  I  am  persuaded  that  every  time  a  man  smiles 
—  but  much  more  so  when  he  laughs  —  it  adds  some¬ 
thing  to  his  fragment  of  life.” 

“  This  pemmican  is  the  finest  flavored  pemmican  I 
have  ever  seen,”  said  one  of  a  crew  in  search  of  John 
Franklin,  when  they  were  reduced  to  starvation  diet. 

Take  life  like  a  man.  Take  it  just  as  though  it  was 
■ —  as  it  is  —  an  earnest,  vital,  essential  affair.  Take  it 
just  as  though  you  personally  were  born  to  the  task  of 
performing  a  merry  part  in  it  —  as  though  the  world 
had  waited  for  your  coming.  Take  it  as  though  it  were 
a  grand  opportunity  to  do  and  to  achieve,  to  carry  for* 
ward  great  and  good  schemes. 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 


295 


“  A  gay,  serene  spirit  is  the  source  of  all  that  is  noble 
and  good,”  said  Schiller.  •  “  Whatever  is  accomplished 
of  the  greatest  and  the  noblest  sort  flows  from  such  a 
disposition.  Petty,  gloomy  souls  that  only  mourn  the 
past  and  dread  the  future  are  not  capable  of  seizing  on 
the  holiest  moments  of  life.” 

“  What  luck  that  it  was  not  my  arms  !  ”  exclaimed  a 
soldier  when  both  legs  were  shot  away  at  Chancellors- 
ville. 

“  Painful  ?  ”  asked  the  young  women  in  surprise, 
when  asked  in  the  fairy  tale  if  it  was  not  a  terrible  ex¬ 
perience  to  pass  through  the  magical  mill  at  Apolda. 
“  Oh,  no  !  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  quite  delightful ! 
It  is  just  like  waking  in  the  morning  after  a  good 
night’s  rest,  to  see  the  sun  shining  in  your  room,  and 
to  hear  the  trees  rustling,  and  the  birds  twittering  in 
the  branches.”  No  wonder,  then,  that  old  women  were 
anxious  to  be  thrown  in  at  the  top,  wrinkled  and 
bent,  without  hair  or  teeth,  if  they  could  come  out 
below  young  and  pretty,  with  cheeks  as  rosy  as  an 
apple. 

“  I  want  to  become  young  again,”  said  an  old  woman 
one  day  to  a  servant  who  sat  smoking  near  the  mill. 
“ And,  pray,”  said  the  man,  “what  is  your  name?” 
“  The  children  call  me  Mother  Redcap,”  was  the  an¬ 
swer  ;  “  I  was  very  happy  in  my  youth,  and  I  wish  above 
all  things  to  be  young  again.”  “  Sit  down,  then,  on  this 
bench,  Mother  Redcap  ;  ”  and  the  man  went  into  the 
mill,  and  opening  a  thick  book,  returned  with  a  long 
strip  of  paper. 

“  Is  that  the  bill  ?  ”  asked  the  old  woman.  “  Oh,  no  !  ” 
replied  the  man,  “  we  charge  nothing  here ;  only  you 
must  sign  your  name  to  the  paper.”.  “  And  why  should 
I  do  that  ?  ”  The  servant  smiled  as  he  answered : 
“This  paper  is  only  a  list  of  all  the  follies  you  have 
ever  committed.  It  is  complete,  even  to  the  present 
hour.  Before  you  can  become  young  again,  you  must 


296 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


pledge  yourself  to  commit  them  all  over  again  in  the 
very  same  order  as  before.  To  be  sure,  there  is  quite  a 
long  list.  From  the  time  you  were  sixteen  until  you 
were  thirty,  there  was  at  least  one  folly  every  day,  and 
on  Sunday  there  were  two ;  then  you  improved  a  little 
until  you  were  forty;  but  after  that  the  follies  have 
been  plenty  enough,  I  assure  you  !  ” 

“  I  know  that  what  you  say  is  all  true,”  said  the  old 
woman,  sighing  ;  “and  I  hardly  think  it  will  repay  one 
to  become  young  again  at  such  a  price.”  “Neither  do  I 
think  so,”  said  the  man ;  “  very  few,  indeed,  could  it 
ever  repay.  So  we  have  an  easy  time  of  it  —  seven  days 
of  rest  every  week  !  The  mill  is  always  still,  at  least 
of  late  years.” 

“Now,  couldn’t  we  strike  out  just  a  few  things?” 
pleaded  the  old  lady,  with  a  tap  on  the  man’s  shoulder. 
“  Suppose  we  leave  off  about  a  dozen  things  that  I  remem¬ 
ber  with  sorrow.  I  would  n’t  mind  doing  all  the  rest.” 
“  No,  no  !  ”  said  the  servant,  “  we  are  not  allowed  to 
leave  off  anything  ;  the  rule  is,  all  or  none  !  ”  “Very 
well,  then,”  said  she,  turning  away,  “  I  shall  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  old  mill.” 

“Why,  Mother  Redcap,  you  come  back  older  than 
you  went !  ”  exclaimed  her  neighbors  when  she  returned 
to  her  distant  home.  “  We  never  thought  there  was  any 
truth  in  the  story  about  that  mill.”  “What  does  it 
matter  about  being  young  again  ?  ”  asked  the  old  woman, 
coughing  a  little,  dry  cough ;  “  if  one  will  try  to  make 
it  so,  old  age  may  be  as  beautiful  as  youth  !  ” 

At  the  gateway  of  life  each  soul  finds  as  it  were 
a  block  of  purest  marble  (time),  a  chisel  and  mallet 
(ability  and  opportunity),  placed  at  his  disposal  by  an 
unseen  messenger.  What  shall  he  do  with  the  marble  ? 
He  may  chisel  out  an  angel  or  a  devil ;  he  may  rear  a 
palace  or  a  hovel.  One  shapes  his  marble  into  a  statue 
which  enchants  the  world  or  sculptures  it  into  frozen 
music.  Another  chisels  his  into  disgusting  forms  which 


297 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 

shall  demoralize  man  in  all  time  and  poison  every 
beholder. 

“In  the  same  family  and  under  the  same  circum¬ 
stances  one  rears  a  stately  edifice,  while  his  brother, 
vacillating  and  incompetent,  lives  forever  amid  ruins.5' 
From  the  same  materials  he  may  fashion  vessels  of 
honor  or  dishonor.  We  find  what  we  are  looking  for. 
The  geologist  sees  design  and  order  in  the  very  pave- 
ment-stones.  The  botanist  reads  volumes  in  the  flowers 
and  grasses  which  most  men  tread  thoughtlessly  beneath 
their  feet.  The  astronomer  gazes  with  rapt  soul  into 
the  starry  depths,  while  his  fellows  seldom  glance  up¬ 
ward. 

Nature  takes  on  our  moods  ;  she  laughs  with  those 
who  laugh  and  weeps  with  those  who  weep.  If  we  re¬ 
joice  and  are  glad  the  very  birds  sing  more  sweetly,  the 
woods  and  streams  murmur  our  song.  But  if  we  are  sad 
and  sorrowful  a  sudden  gloom  falls  upon  Nature’s  face  ; 
the  sun  shines,  but  not  in  our  hearts,  the  birds  sing,  but 
not  to  us.  The  music  of  the  spheres  is  pitched  in  a 
minor  key. 

If  I  trust,  I  am  trusted ;  if  I  suspect,  I  am  suspected ; 
if  I  love,  I  am  loved  ;  if  I  hate,  I  am  despised.  Every 
man  is  a  magnet  and  attracts  to  himself  kindred  spirits 
and  principles  until  he  is  surrounded  by  a  world  all  his 
own,  good  or  bad  like  himself  ;  so  all  the  bodily  organs 
and  functions  are  tied  together  in  closest  sympathy.  If 
one  laughs,  all  rejoice  ;  if  one  suffers,  all  the  others  suf¬ 
fer  with  it. 

The  future  will  be  just  what  we  make  it.  Our  pur¬ 
pose  will  give  it  its  character.  One’s  resolution  is  one’s 
prophecy.  There  is  no  bright  hope,  no  bright  outlook 
for  the  man  who  has  no  great  inspiration.  A  man  is 
just  what  his  resolution  is.  Tell  us  his  purpose  and 
there  is  the  interpretation  of  him,  of  his  manhood. 
There,  too,  is  the  revelation  of  his  destiny.  Leave  all 
your  discouraging  pessimism  behind.  Do  not  prophesy 


298 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


evil,  but  good.  Have  the  purpose  within  you  to  bring 
along  better  times,  and  better  times  will  come.  Men 
who  hope  large  things  are  public  benefactors.  Men  of 
hope  to  the  front. 

“Well,  Eobert,  where  have  you  been  walking  this 
afternoon  ?  ”  asked  Mr.  Andrews  of  one  of  his  pupils  at 
the  close  of  a  holiday.  “Oh,  I  have  been  to  Brown 
Heath,  and  round  by  Camp  Mount,  and  home  through 
the  meadows.  But  it  was  very  dull.  I  hardly  saw  a 
single  person.  I  would  much  rather  have  gone  by  the 
turnpike  road.” 

“  Well,  where  have  you  been  ?”  asked  the  teacher  of 
another  pupil  who  came  in  while  Eobert  was  talking. 
“  Oh,  sir,”  replied  Master  William,  “  I  never  had  such 
a  pleasant  walk  before  in  my  life.  I  found  a  curious 
plant  (mistletoe)  which  grows  right  out  from  the  bark  of 
an  oak-tree  just  as  well  as  if  its  roots  were  deep  in  the 
ground.  I  saw  a  woodpecker,  and  a  large  wheat-ear, 
and  gathered  some  beautiful  flowers  in  the  meadows. 
I  followed  a  strange  bird  because  I  thought  its  wing 
was  broken,  but  it  led  me  into  a  bog,  where  I  got  very 
wet,  and  then  it  flew  off  with  no  sign  of  a  broken  wing. 
Perhaps  it  only  meant  to  get  me  away  from  its  nest. 
But  I  don’t  mind  my  wetting,  because  I  niet  an  old 
man  burning  charcoal  near  the  bog,  who  told  me  all 
about  his  business,  and  gave  me  a  pretty  little  dead 
snake.  Then  I  went  to  the  top  of  the  high  hill,  and 
saw  all  the  country  spread  out  below  me  like  a  map. 
Next,  because  the  hill  is  called  Camp  Mount,  I  looked 
for  the  ruins  of  the  old  camp,  and  found  them;  and 
then  I  went  down  to  the  river,  and  to  twenty  other 
places,  and  so  on  and  so  forth,  till  I  have  brought  home 
curiosities  enough,  and  thoughts  enough,  to  last  me  a 
week.” 

Mr.  Andrews  told  him  all  about  his  curiosities ;  and, 
when  he  learned  that  William  who  had  seen  so  much 
had  gone  over  the  same  ground  as  Eobert,  who  saw 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 


299 


nothing  at  all,  he  said :  “  So  it  is.  One  man  walks 
through  the  world  with  his  eyes  open,  another  with  his 
eyes  shut.  I  have  known  sailors  who  had  been  in  all 
quarters  of  the  world,  and  could  tell  you  of  nothing  but 
the  signs  of  the  tippling-houses  and  the  price  of  the 
liquor  that  was  sold  there.  While  many  a  silly, 
thoughtless  youth  is  whirled  through  Europe  without 
gaining  a  single  idea,  the  observing  eye  and  inquiring 
mind  find  matter  for  improvement  and  delight  in  every 
ramble.  You,  then,  William,  continue  to  use  your  eyes. 
And  you,  Robert,  learn  that  eyes  were  given  to  you  for 
use.” 

Each  of  these  young  men  had  created  his  own  little 
world. 

“  JT  is  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus  or  thus,”  says 
Iago.  “  Our  bodies  are  our  gardens,  to  the  which  our 
wills  are  gardeners  :  so  that  if  we  will  plant  nettles,  or 
sow  lettuce,  set  hyssop  and  weed  up  thyme,  supply  it 
with  one  gender  of  herbs,  or  distract  it  with  many, 
either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idleness,  or  manured  with 
industry,  why,  the  power  and  corrigible  authority  of 
this  lies  in  our  wills.” 

Whipple  says  that  each  man’s  levity,  bigotry,  igno¬ 
rance,  vice,  or  littleness  erects  a  wall  of  adamant  be¬ 
tween  himself  and  whatever  is  profound,  comprehensive, 
wise,  good,  or  great. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  from  the  same  materials 
one  man  builds  palaces,  another  hovels  ;  one  warehouses, 
another  villas ;  bricks  and  mortar  are  mortar  and  bricks 
until  the  architect  makes  them  something  else.  The 
block  of  granite  which  was  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of 
the  weak  becomes  a  stepping-stone  in  the  pathway  of 
the  resolute.  The  difficulties  which  dishearten  one  man 
only  stiffen  the  sinews  of  another,  who  looks  on  them 
as  a  sort  of  mental  spring-board  by  which  to  vault  across 
the  gulf  of  failure  on  to  the  sure,  solid  ground  of  full 

success. 


300 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


In  every  human  ear,  according  to  Corti,  is  a  harp  of 
8,700  strings,  varying  in  length  from  one  five-hundredth 
to  one  two-hundredth  of  an  inch.  If  a  well-tuned  vio¬ 
lin  be  held  near  a  piano,  when  the  E  string  is  struck 
the  E  string  of  the  violin  will  vibrate  in  unison,  and 
give  forth  a  distinct  tone  of  the  same  pitch.  Other 
strings  evoke  their  corresponding  tones.  In  like  man¬ 
ner  the  8,700  strings  of  the  human  harp  have  such  a 
wide  compass  that  any  appreciable  sound  finds  its  cor¬ 
responding  tone-string,  and  the  sound  is  conveyed 
through  the  auditory  nerve  to  the  brain. 

Our  souls  are  harps  strung  to  finer  harmony,  their 
compass  varying  according  to  the  wholeness  or  halfness 
of  our  lives, "the  greater  or  less  degree  of  our  culture. 
The  world  is  full  of  melody.  Every  atom,  touched  by 
unseen  fingers,  is  vibrant  with  sweetest  music,  yet  there 
is  only  now  and  then  a  soul  sensitive  enough  to  catch 
the  finer  strains.  Rarely  a  poet  or  philosopher  reads  the 
“  books  in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,”  or 
sees  “  God  in  everything.”  Only  now  and  then  an  Agas¬ 
siz,  from  a  single  track  in  the  old  red  sandstone  or  a 
single  fossil  bone,  can  reconstruct  a  whole  skeleton  — 
reinvesting  with  flesh  and  reanimating  with  life  an  an¬ 
imal  whose  very  species  has  been  extinct  for  centuries. 
There  is  only  now  and  then  a  Hugh  Miller  who  can 
trace  the  footprints  of  the  Creator  down  through  the 
ages,  and  read  the  records  of  the  past  imprinted  in  the 
rocks.  But  rarer,  far  rarer  than  these,  are  they  who  can 
catch  responsively  the  higher  music  of  sentient  being, 
with  its  joys  and  hopes  ;  of  earnest,  aspiring,  struggling 
souls,  tolerant,  serious,  yet  sunny ;  of  the  glorious  dia¬ 
pason  of  the  fullness  of  the  compassion  and  love  of  God. 

Some  people,  like  the  bee,  seem  to  gather  honey  from 
every  flower;  while  others,  like  the  spider,  carry  only 
poison  away.  One  person  finds  happiness  everywhere 
and  in  every  occasion,  carrying  his  own  holiday  with 
him.  Another  always  appears  to  be  returning  from  a 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT, 


801 


funeral.  One  sees  beauty  and  harmony  wherever  he 
looks,  his  very  tears  affording  him  visions  of  resplendent 
rainbows  as  the  sunbeams  of  Hope  fall  upon  him.  An¬ 
other  is  blind  to  beauty  ;  the  lenses  of  his  eyes  seem  to 
be  smoked  glass,  draping  the  whole  world  in  mourning. 

Though  all  have  eyes,  all  do  not  see,  yet  all  eyes  are 
constructed  exactly  alike.  The  same  beautiful  light  im¬ 
pinges  upon  all  retinas,  but  how  different  the  images 
presented  1  While  one  man  sees  only  gravel,  fodder,  and 
firewood  upon  Boston  Common,  another  is  ravished  with 
its  beauty.  One  sees  in  a  matchless  rose  nothing  but 
rose-water  for  sore  eyes  ;  another  penetrates  its  purpose, 
and  reads  in  the  beauty  of  its  blended  colors  and  its 
wonderful  fragrance  the  thoughts  of  God.  The  rose  be¬ 
comes  a  lens  through  which  he  gazes  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  Creator. 

“My  body  must  walk  the  earth/’  said  an  ancient  poet, 
“but  I  can  put  wings  on  my  soul,  and  plumes  to  my 
hardest  thought.” 

If  we  would  get  the  most  out  of  life,  we  must  learn 
not  merely  to  look  but  to  see.  The  sun  is  not  partial  to 
the  rainbow  and  the  rose  ;  he  scatters  his  beauty  every¬ 
where —  the  only  defect  is  in  pur  vision. 

«  Though  our  character  is  formed  by  circumstances,” 
said  John  Stuart  Mill,  “our  own  desires  can  do  much  to 
shape  those  circumstances  ;  and  what  is  really  inspirit¬ 
ing  and  ennobling  in  the  doctrine  of  free  will  is  the  con¬ 
viction  that  we  have  real  power  over  the  formation  of 
our  own  character ;  our  will,  by  influencing  some  of  our 
circumstances,  being  able  to  modify  our  future  habits  or 
capacities  of  willing.” 

As  we  may  look  without  seeing  and  listen  without 
hearing,  so  we  may  work  without  accomplishing  any¬ 
thing.  Michael  Angelo  was  once  commanded  by  his 
prince  to  mould  a  beautiful  statue  of  snow  —  an  illus¬ 
trious  example  of  the  fact  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  be 
idle  in  order  to  throw  away  time.  That  statue,  though 


302 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


instinct  with  ideal  beauty  stamped  upon  it  by  an  immor 
tal  hand,  melted,  and  every  trace  of  the  sculptor’s  great* 
ness  was  washed  away.  Oh,  what  precious  hours  we  have 
all  wasted,  writing  in  oblivion’s  book  !  Wasted  ?  worse 
than  wasted,  for  the  knowledge  that  we  were  working 
uselessly  tended  to  beget  a  habit  of  aimless  and  careless 
work.  Who  has  not  worked  for  annihilation,  painting 
in  colors  that  fade,  carving  in  stone  that  crumbles  ? 
Who  has  not  built  upon  the  sand,  and  written  upon  the 
water  ? 

What  we  are  to  be  really,  we  are  now  potentially. 
As  the  future  oak  lies  folded  in  the  acorn,  so  in  the  pres¬ 
ent  lies  our  future.  Our  success  will  be,  can  be,  but  a 
natural  tree,  developed  from  the  seeds  of  our  own  sow¬ 
ing  :  the  fragrance  of  its  blossoms  and  the  richness  of 
its  fruitage  will  depend  upon  the  nourishment  absorbed 
from  our  past  and  present. 

Kuskin  tells  us  that  the  earth  we  tread  beneath  our 
feet  is  composed  of  clay  and  sand  and  soot  and  water ; 
and  he  tells  us  that,  if  nature  has  her  perfect  work  (in 
these  things),  the  clay  will  become  porcelain,  and  may 
be  painted  upon  and  placed  in  the  king’s  palace  ;  then, 
again,  it  may  become  clear  and  hard  and  white,  and 
have  the  power  of  drawing  to  itself  the  blue  and  the  red, 
the  green  and  the  purple  rays  of  the  sunlight,  and  be¬ 
come  an  opal.  The  sand  will  become  very  hard  and 
white,  and  have  the  power  of  drawing  to  itself  the  blue 
rays  of  the  sunlight,  and  become  a  sapphire.  The  soot 
will  become  the  hardest  and  whitest  substance  known, 
and  be  changed  into  a  diamond.  The  water  in  the  sum¬ 
mer  is  a  dewdrop,  and  in  the  winter  crystallizes  into  a 
star.  Even  so  the  homeliest  lives,  by  drawing  to  them¬ 
selves  the  coloring  of  truth,  sincerity,  charity,  and 
faith,  may  become  crystals  and  gems  “  of  purest  ray 
serene.” 

rt  Our  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good  or  ill, 
v  Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  81111." 


LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 


303 


All  are  architects  of  fate, 

Working  in  these  walls  of  time; 

Some  with  massive  deeds  .and  great, 

Some  with  ornaments  of  rhyme ; 

For  the  structure  that  we  raise, 

Time  is  with  materials  filled; 

Our  to-days  and  yesterdays 
Are  the  blocks  with  which  we  build. 

Longfellow. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 

»T  is  said  best  men  are  moulded  of  their  faults. 

Shakespeare. 

They  never  fail  who  die  in  a  great  cause.  Byron 

“  Failures  are  but  the  pillars  of  success.” 

Our  greatest  glory  is  not  in  never  falling,  but  in  rising  every  time  wo 
fall.  —  Goldsmith. 

Adversity  is  the  diamond-dust  Heaven  polishes  its  jewels  with. 

Leighton. 

Who  falls  for  the  love  of  God,  shall  rise  a  star. 

Ben  Jonson. 

Nor  deem  the  irrevocable  Past 
As  wholly  wasted,  wholly  vain, 

If,  rising  on  its  wrecks,  at  last 
To  something  nobler  we  attain. 

Longfellow. 

What  is  defeat  ?  Nothing  but  education ;  nothing  but  the  first  steps  to 
something  better  « — Wendell  Phillips. 

A  great  career,  though  balked  of  its  end,  is  still  a  landmark  of  human 
energy.  —  Smiles. 

Let  Fortune  empty  her  whole  quiver  on  me, 

I  have  a  soul  that,  like  an  ample  shield, 

Can  take  in  all,  and  verge  enough  for  more; 

Fate  was  not  mine,  nor  am  I  Fate’s  : 

Souls  know  no  conquerors.  Dryden. 

Sometimes  the  truest  lives  of  all 
Are  lived  by  those  who  fail. 

Myron  Hanford  Veon. 

Nearly  a  hundred  thousand  Romans  are  assembled 
in  the  Colosseum  to  see  the  hated  Christians  struggle 
for  their  lives  with  the  wild  beasts  of  the  amphitheatre. 
The  grand  spectacle  is  preceded  by  a  duel  between  two 
rival  gladiators,  trained  to  fight  to  the  death  to  amuse 
the  populace.  When  a  gladiator  hit  his  adversary  in 
such  contests  he  would  say  “  hoc  habet  ”  (he  has  it), 
and  look  up  to  see  whether  he  should  kill  or  spare.  If 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


305 


the  people  held  their  thumbs  up,  the  victim  would  be 
left  to  recover ;  if  down,  he  was  to  die.  If  he  showed 
the  least  reluctance  in  presenting  his  throat  for  the 
death-blow,  there  would  rise  a  scornful  shout :  “  Recipe 
ferrum  ”  (receive  the  steel).  Prominent  persons  would 
sometimes  go  into  the  arena  and  watch  the  death 
agonies  of  the  vanquished,  or  taste  the  warm  blood  of 
some  brave  hero. 

The  two  rival  gladiators,  as  they  entered,  had 
shouted  to  the  emperor :  “  Ave,  Caesar,  morituri  te 
salutant”  (Hail,  Caesar,  those  about  to  die  salute  thee). 
Then  in  mortal  strife  they  fought  long  and  desperately, 
their  faces  wet  with  perspiration  and  dark  with  the 
dust  of  the  arena.  Suddenly  an  aged  stranger  in  the 
audience  leaps  over  the  railing,  and,  standing  bare¬ 
headed  and  barefoot  between  the  contestants,  bids  them 
stay  their  hands.  A  hissing  sound  comes  from  the 
vast  audience,  like  that  of  steam  issuing  from  a  geyser, 
followed  by  cries  of  “Back,  back,  old  man.”  But  the 
gray -haired  hermit  stands  like  a  statue.  “  Cut  him 
down,  cut  him  down,”  roar  the  spectators,  and  the  glad¬ 
iators  strike  the  would-be  peacemaker  to  earth,  and 
fight  over  his  dead  body. 

But  what  of  it  ?  What  is  the  life  of  a  poor  old 
hermit  compared  with  the  thousands  who  have  met  their 
deaths  in  that  vast  arena  ?  The  unknown  man  died, 
indeed,  but  his  death  brought  Rome  to  her  senses,  and 
no  more  gladiatorial  contests  disgraced  the  Colosseum, 
while  in  every  province  of  the  empire  the  custom  was 
utterly  abolished,  to  be  revived  no  more.  The  vast 
ruin  stands  to-day  a  monument  to  the  victory  in  the 
hermit’s  defeat. 

No  man  fails  who  does  his  best,  for  if  the  critical 
world  ignore  him,  his  labor  is  weighed  in  the  scales  of 
Omniscient  Justice.  As  there  is  no  effect  without 
cause,  no  loss  of  energy  in  the  world,  so  conscientious 
persistence  cannot  fail  of  its  ultimate  reward- 


306 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


One  of  the  first  lessons  of  life  is  to  learn  how  to  get 
victory  out  of  defeat.  It  takes  courage  and  stamina, 
when  mortified  and  embarrassed  by  humiliating  dis¬ 
aster,  to  seek  in  the  wreck  or  ruins  the  elements  of 
future  conquest.  Yet  this  measures  the  difference 
between  those  who  succeed  and  those  who  fail.  You 
cannot  measure  a  man  by  his  failures.  You  must  know 
what  use  he  makes  of  them.  What  did  they  mean  to 
him  ?  What  did  he  get  out  of  them  ? 

I  always  watch  with  great  interest  a  young  man’s 
first  failure.  It  is  the  index  of  his  life,  the  measure  of 
his  success-power.  The  mere  fact  of  his  failure  does 
not  interest  me  much  ;  but  how  did  he  take  his  defeat  ? 
What  did  he  do  next  ?  Was  he  discouraged  ?  Did  he 
slink  out  of  sight  ?  Did  he  conclude  that  he  had  made 
a  mistake  in  his  calling,  and  dabble  in  something  else  ? 
Or  did  he  up  and  at  it  again  with  a  determination 
that  knows  no  defeat  ? 

“  I  thank  God  I  was  not  made  a  dexterous  manipula¬ 
tor,”  said  Humphry  Davy,  “  for  the  most  important  of 
my  discoveries  have  been  suggested  to  me  by  failures.” 

“  God  forbid  that  I  should  do  this  thing,  and  flee 
away  from  them,”  said  Judas  Maccabgeus,  when,  witli 
only  eight  hundred  faithful  men,  he  was  urged  to  retire 
before  the  Syrian  army  of  twenty  thousand.  “  If  our 
time  be  come,  let  us  die  manfully  for  our  brethren,  and 
let  us  not  stain  our  honor.” 

“  Sore  was  the  battle,”  says  Miss  Yonge ;  “  as  sore 
as  that  waged  by  the  three  hundred  at  Thermopylae, 
and  the  end  was  the  same.  Judas  and  his  eight  hun¬ 
dred  were  not  driven  from  the  field,  but  lay  dead  upon 
it.  But  their  work  was  done.  The  moral  effect  of 
such  a  defeat  goes  further  than  many  a  victory.  Those 
lives,  sold  so  dearly,  were  the  price  of  freedom  for 
Judea.  Judas’s  brothers,  Jonathan  and  Simon,  laid 
him  in  his  father’s  tomb,  and  then  ended  the  work  that 
he  had  begun  ;  and  when  Simon  died,  the  Jews,  once  so 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


307 

trodden  on,  were  the  most  prosperous  race  in  the  East. 
The  temple  was  raised  from  its  ruins,  and  the  exploits 
of  the  Maccabees  had  nerved  the  whole  people  to  do  or 
die  in  defense  of  the  holy  faith  of  their  fathers/’ 

After  a  long  and  desperate  but  vain  struggle  to  free 
his  country  from  the  iron  rule  of  Rome,  Vercingetorix 
surrendered  himself  to  Caesar  on  condition  that  his  army 
should  be  allowed  to  return  home  without  molestation. 
He  was  held  a  prisoner  for  six  years,  then  dragged  in 
chains  over  the  cold  stones  r  Rome  to  grace  an  impe¬ 
rial  triumph,  and  killed  in  his  dungeon  the  following 
night.  Yet  no  one  would  think  of  naming  any  one  else 
if  asked  who  was  the  bravest  and  noblest  among  the 
Gallic  leaders. 

“  Be  of  good  comfort,  Master  Ridley,  and  play  the 
man,”  said  Latimer,  as  he  stood  with  his  friend  at  the 
stake  ;  “we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle  by  God’s 
grace  in  England  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out ;  ” 
and  every  word  had  more  influence  than  would  the 
preaching  of  a  hundred  sermons  against  the  intolerance 
of  the  age.  So  incensed  did  the  people  become  that, 
besides  Cranmer,  burned  two  years  later,  very  few  others 
were  sacrificed ;  and  of  these  it  is  said  that  they  were 
secretly  tried  and  burned  at  night,  surrounded  by  sol¬ 
diers,  for  fear  of  riots  by  the  populace  enraged  at  such 
injustice  and  cruelty. 

There  is  something  grand  and  inspiring  in  a  young 
man  who  fails  squarely  after  doing  his  level  best,  and 
then  enters  the  contest  again  and  again  with  undaunted 
courage  and  redoubled  energy.  I  have  no  fears  for  the 
youth  who  is  not  disheartened  at  failure. 

“ It  is  defeat,”  says  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  “that 
turns  bone  to  flint,  and  gristle  to  muscle,  and  makes 
men  invincible,  and  formed  those  heroic  natures  that 
are  now  in  ascendency  in  the  world.  Ho  not,  then,  be 
afraid  of  defeat.  You  are  never  so  near  to  victory  as 
when  defeated  in  a  good  cause.” 


308 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


Failure  becomes  the  final  test  of  persistence  and  of 
an  iron  will.  It  either  crushes  a  life,  or  solidifies  it. 
The  wounded  oyster  mends  his  shell  with  pearl. 

“  Failure  is,  in  a  sense,55  says  Keats,  “  the  highway  to 
success,  inasmuch  as  every  discovery  of  what  is  false 
leads  us  to  seek  earnestly  after  what  is  true,  and  every 
fresh  experience  points  out  some  form  of  error  which 
we  shall  afterward  carefully  avoid.55 

“  We  mount  to  heaven,55  says  A.  B.  Alcott,  “  mostly 
on  the  ruins  of  our  r1  rished  schemes,  finding  our 
failures  were  successes.55 

No  man  is  a  failure  who  is  upright  and  true.  No 
cause  is  a  failure  which  is  in  the  right.  There  is  but 
one  failure,  and  that  is  not  to  be  true  to  the  best  that  is 
in  us. 

Of  what  avail  would  it  be  for  a  man  without  a  king, 
dom,  without  an  army,  to  oppose  the  most  powerful 
monarch  of  Europe  ?  William  the  Silent  was  a  learned 
philosopher,  an  accomplished  linguist,  of  good  family 
and  great  wealth,  and  a  lover  of  peace.  Yet,  as  a  mere 
citizen  of  little  Holland,  on  what  could  he  rely  should 
he  attempt  to  wage  war  against  overwhelming  odds, 
except  the  justice  of  his  cause  and  the  weight  of  his 
character  ? 

Philip  II.  was  a  nephew  of  the  emperor  of  Germany, 
husband  of  the  queen  of  England,  and  ruler  in  his  own 
right  of  Spain,  Holland,  Belgium,  and  most  of  Italy, 
Oran,  Tunis,  the  Cape  Verde,  Canary,  and  Philippine 
Islands,  the  Antilles,  Mexico,  and  Peru.  While  his 
neighbors  were  weakened  by  quarrels,  his  resources 
were  unrivaled.  His  cause  was  supported  by  the  arms, 
wealth,  glory,  genius,  and  religion  of  Europe. 

Philip  determined  to  establish  the  Inquisition  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  William  resolved  to  consecrate  him 
self  to  the  defense  of  the  liberties  of  his  country. 

The  struggle  was  prodigious.  At  last  William  died; 
but  Philip  was  not  a  victor.  Holland,  indeed,  waa 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


309 


without  a  leader,  but  the  vast  Spanish  monarchy  was 
tottering  to  its  fall.  From  the  beginning  of  the  contest, 
“  the  figure  of  the  king  becomes  smaller  and  smaller 
until  it  finally  disappears,  while  that  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange  grows  and  grows,  until  it  becomes  the  most 
glorious  figure  of  the  century.”  Proscribed,  impover¬ 
ished,  calumniated,  surrounded  by  assassins,  often  a 
fugitive,  and  finally  a  lifeless  lump  of  clay,  William  had 
maintained  throughout  a  solidity  of  character  against 
which  beat  in  vain  the  waves  of  corrupt  wealth  and 
injustice.  Character  is  power. 

Kaleigh  failed,  but  he  left  a  name  ever  to  be  linked 
with  brave  effort  and  noble  character.  Kossuth  did 
not  succeed,  but  his  lofty  career,  his  burning  words,  and 
his  ideal  fidelity  will  move  men  for  good  as  long  as  time 
shall  last.  O’Connell  did  not  win  his  cause,  but  he  did 
achieve  enduring  fame  as  an  orator,  patriot,  and  apostle 
of  liberty. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  retreat  of  Xenophon’s  Ten 
Thousand  outshines  the  conquests  of  Alexander ;  and 
the  retreat  of  Sir  John  Moore  to  Corunna  was  as  great 
as  the  victories  of  Wellington. 

“  Gentlemen,  apply  to  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Whit¬ 
ney,  he  can  make  anything,”  said  the  widow  of  General 
Greene,  when  some  officers  who  had  served  under  her 
husband  in  the  Eevolution  said  it  was  impossible  to 
extend  the  culture  of  cotton,  on  account  of  the  trouble 
and  expense  of  separating  the  seed  from  the  fibre.  Eli 
Whitney  had  gone  from  his  Massachusetts  home,  in 
1792,  to  teach  in  Georgia. 

Mrs.  Greene,  at  whose  house  he  was  visiting,  introduced 
Mr.  Whitney  to  the  officers  and  some  planter  guests,  and 
recommended  him  as  a  young  man  of  great  integrity 
and  ingenuity.  The  young  teacher  said  that  he  had 
never  seen  cotton  or  cotton-seed,  but  promised  to  see 
what  he  could  do.  He  found  a  little  in  Savannah,  and 
shut  himself  up  in  a  basement  to  experiment.  He 


810 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


had  to  make  his  own  tools,  and  even  draw  his  wire,  ag 
none  could  then  be  bought  in  Savannah.  He  hammered 
and  tinkered  all  winter,  but  at  last  his  machine  was 
successful. 

Mr.  Miller,  who  had  recently  married  Mrs.  Greene, 
offered  to  become  an  equal  partner  with  Mr.  Whitney, 
furnishing  funds  for  perfecting,  patenting,  and  making 
the  machines.  People  came  to  see  the  wonderful  de¬ 
vice,  but  Mr.  Miller  refused  to  show  it,  as  it  was  not 
yet  patented. 

Some  of  the  visitors  broke  open  the  building  by  night 
and  carried  off  the  gin.  Soon  the  partners  found  that 
machines  that  infringed  upon  theirs  were  upon  the 
market.  Mr.  Whitney  established  a  manufactory  in 
New  Haven,  but  was  hampered  greatly  by  a  long  sick¬ 
ness,  while  suits  to  defend  the  patent  swallowed  all  the 
money  of  the  partners.  Again  Whitney  was  sick,  and 
had  but  just  recovered  when  his  manufactory  burned 
with  all  his  machines  and  papers,  leaving  him  bank¬ 
rupt.  Just  then  came  the  news  that  British  manufac¬ 
turers  rejected  cotton  cleaned  by  his  machine,  saying 
that  the  process  was  injurious.  He  went  to  Eng¬ 
land  and  at  last  overcame  this  prejudice,  when  his 
cotton-gin  was  again  in  demand.  A  suit  against  an 
infringer  was  decided  against  him  by  a  Georgia  jury, 
although  the  judge  charged  in  his  favor.  The  market 
was  flooded  with  infringements.  Not  until  1807,  the 
last  year  of  his  patent,  was  a  suit  decided  in  his  favor, 
Judge  Johnson  saying:  — 

“The  whole  interior  of  the  Southern  States  was 
languishing  and  its  inhabitants  emigrating  for  want  of 
some  object  to  engage  their  attention  and  employ  their 
industry,  when  the  invention  of  this  machine  at  once 
opened  views  to  them  which  set  the  whole  country  in 
active  motion.  Prom  childhood  to  age,  it  has  presented 
to  us  a  lucrative  employment.  Individuals  who  were 
depressed  with  poverty  and  sunk  in  idleness  have  sud 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT . 


311 


denly  risen  to  wealth  and  respectability.  Onr  debts 
have  been  paid  off.  Our  capitals  have  increased,  and 
our  lands  have  trebled  themselves  in  value.” 

Whitney  was  obliged  to  engage  in  another  kind  of 
business  to  gain  a  livelihood,  on  account  of  the  injustice 
of  his  fellow  countrymen,  yet  one  of  the  world’s  greatest 
victories  grew  out  of  his  apparent  defeat.  Instead  of  a 
pound  of  cleaned  cotton  as  the  result  of  a  day’s  work  of 
.  an  able-bodied  man,  he  had  made  it  possible  for  him  to 
clean  hundreds  of  pounds.  His  invention  increased  the 
production  of  cotton  in  the  South  more  than  a  thousand 
fold,  and  was  worth,  according  to  conservative  men, 
more  than  a  thousand  millions  of  dollars  to  the  United 
States.  What  an  inspiration  there  is  in  this  career  for 
discouraged  souls  in  life’s  great  battles  ! 

“  No  language,”  says  E.  P.  Whipple,  “  can  fitly  express 
the  meanness,  the  baseness,  the  brutality,  with  which 
the  world  has  ever  treated  its  victims  of  one  age  and 
boasts  of  them  in  the  next.  Dante  is  worshiped  at 
that  grave  to  which  he  was  hurried  by  persecution. 
Milton  in  his  own  day  was  ‘  Mr.  Milton,  the  blind 
adder,  that  spit  his  venom  on  the  king’s  person  ;  ’  and 
soon  after,  6  the  mighty  orb  of  song.’  These  absurd 
transitions  from  hatred  to  apotheosis,  this  recognition 
just  at  the  moment  when  it  becomes  a  mockery,  sadden 
all  intellectual  history.” 

“  Even  in  this  world,”  says  Mrs.  Stowe,  “  they  will 
have  their  judgment-day ;  and  their  names,  which  went 
down  in  the  dust  like  a  gallant  banner  trodden  in 
the  mire,  shall  rise  again  all  glorious  in  the  sight  of 
nations.” 

What  cared  Garrison  or  Phillips  for  the  rotten  eggs, 
the  jeers  and  hisses  in  Faneuil  Hall  ?  What  did  Demos 
thenes,  Curran,  or .  Disraeli  care  for  the  taunts  and 
hisses  that  drove  them  from  the  rostrum  ?  They  felt 
within  the  power  of  greatness,  and  knew  that  the  time 
Would  come  when  they  would  be  heard.  Mortified  by 


312 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


humiliation  and  roused  by  defeat,  they  were  spurred 
into  a  grander  eloquence.  Those  apparent  defeats  which 
would  have  silenced  forever  men  of  ordinary  mould, 
only  excited  in  these  men  a  determination  which,  like 
the  waters  of  the  Hellespont,  “  ne’er  felt  retiring  ebb.” 
Who  can  estimate  the  world’s  debt  to  weak,  deformed, 
and  apparently  defeated  men,  whose  desperate  struggles 
to  redeem  themselves  from  perpetual  scorn  have  made 
them  immortal  ?  It  was  Byron’s  club-foot  and  shyness 
which  caused  him  to  pour  forth  his  soul  in  song.  It 
was  to  Bedford  jail  that  we  owe  the  finest  allegory  in 
the  world.  Bunyan  wrote  nothing  of  note  before  or 
after  his  twelve  years’  imprisonment. 

Death  wins  no  victory  over  such  men.  Regnlus  might 
be  destroyed  bodily  by  cruel  torture,  but  his  spirit 
animated  Rome  to  blot  Carthage  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Winkelried  did  indeed  fall  beneath  the  Austrian 
spears,  but  Switzerland  is  free.  Wallace  was  quartered  : 
Scotland  never.  Lincoln  became  the  victim  of  an  assas¬ 
sin,  but  none  the  less  his  work  went  forward.  Never 
was  martyr  yet  whose  death  did  not  advance  the  cause 
he  advocated  tenfold  more  than  could  possibly  have  been 
accomplished  by  his  voice  or  pen. 

He  who  never  failed  has  never  half  succeeded.  The 
defeat  at  Bull  Run  was  really  the  greatest  victory  of 
the  Civil  War,  for  it  sent  the  cowards  to  the  rear  and 
the  politicians  home.  It  was  the  lightning-flash  in  the 
dark  night  of  our  nation’s  peril  which  gave  us  glimpses 
of  the  weak  places  in  our  army.  It  was  the  mirror 
which  showed  us  the  faces  of  the  political  aspirants. 

“  The  angel  of  martyrdom  is  brother  to  the  angel  of 
victory.”  What  cared  Savonarola  though  the  pope 
excommunicated  him  because  he  could  not  bribe  him  ? 
What  cared  he  for  the  live  coals  on-liis  feet  ?  He  would 
still  tell  the  Italian  people  of  their  terrible  sins,  and  he 
knew  that  though  they  should  burn  him  at  the  stake, 
his  ashes  would  plead  for  him  and  speak  louder  than 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


313 


his  tongue  had  ever  done.  He  shrank  not  from  telling 
the  dying  Lorenzo  to  restore  liberty  to  Florence  and  re¬ 
turn  what  he  had  stolen  from  the  people,  before  he 
would  grant  him  absolution.  Though  the  prince  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall,  rather  than  purchase  forgiveness 
on  such  terms,  Savonarola  was  inflexible,  and  the  mon¬ 
arch  died  unabsolved.  On  the  way  to  the  scaffold,  the 
bishop  said,  “  I  separate  thee  from  the  Church  militant 
and  triumphant.”  Savonarola  corrected  him,  saying, 
“  Not  triumphant,  that  is  not  yours  to  do.” 

“  Heaven  is  probably  a  place  for  those  who  have 
failed  on  earth.  The  world  will  be  blind  indeed  if  it 
does  not  reckon  among  its  great  ones  such  martyrs  as 
miss  the  palms  but  not  the  pains  of  martyrdom,  heroes 
without  laurels  and  conquerors  without  the  jubilations 
of  triumph.” 

Uninterrupted  successes  at  the  beginning  of  a  career 
are  dangerous.  Beware  of  the  first  great  triumph.  It 
may  prove  a  failure.  Many  a  man  has  been  ruined  by 
over-confidence  born  of  his  first  victory.  The  mountain 
oak,  tossed  and  swayed  in  the  tempest  until  its  proud 
top  sweeps  the  earth,  is  all  the  stronger  for  its  hundred 
battles  with  the  elements  if  it  only  straighten  up  again. 
The  danger  is  not  in  a  fall,  but  in  failing  to  rise. 

All  the  great  work  of  the  world  has  been  accomplished 
by  courage,  and  the  world’s  greatest  victories  have  been 
born  of  defeat.  Every  blessing  that  we  enjoy  —  per¬ 
sonal  security,  individual  liberty,  and  constitutional 
freedom  —  has  been  obtained  through  long  apprentice¬ 
ships  of  evil.  The  right  of  existing  as  a  nation  has  only 
been  accomplished  through  ages  of  wars  and  horrors. 
It  required  four  centuries  of  martyrdom  to  establish 
Christianity,  and  a  century  of  civil  wars  to  introduce 
the  Keformation. 

“  There  are  some  whom  the  lightning  of  fortune 
blasts,  only  to  render  holy,”  says  Bulwer.  “  Amidst 
all  that  humbles  and  scathes  —  amidst  all  that  shatters 


314 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


from  their  life  its  verdure,  smites  to  the  dust  the  pomp 
and  summit  of  their  pride,  and  in  the  very  heart  of  ex¬ 
istence  writeth  a  sudden  and  strange  defeature,  they 
stand  erect,  —  riven,  not  uprooted,  a  monument  less  of 
pity  than  of  awe  !  There  are  some  who  pass  through 
the  lazar-house  of  misery  with  a  step  more  august  than 
a  Cmsar’s  in  his  hall.  The  very  things  which,  seer 
alone,  are  despicable  and  vile,  associated  with  them  be 
come  almost  venerable  and  divine ;  and  one  ray,  how 
ever  dim  and  feeble,  of  that  intense  holiness  which, 
in  the  infant  God,  shed  majesty  over  the  manger  and 
the  straw,  not  denied  to  those  who,  in  the  depth  of  af¬ 
fliction,  cherished  his  patient  image,  flings  over  the 
meanest  localities  of  earth  an  emanation  from  the  glory 
of  Heaven !  ” 

Even  from  the  dreary  waste  and  desolation  of  his  be¬ 
reavement  at  Eordham,  the  stricken  soul  of  Edgar  A. 
Poe  blossomed  in  those  matchless  flowers  of  funeral 
song,  the  delicately  ethereal  dirges,  “  Ulalume  ”  and 
“  Annabel  Lee,”  which  alone  would  immortalize  their 
author. 

To  know  how  to  wring  victory  from  defeat,  and  make 
stepping-stones  of  our  stumbling-blocks,  is  the  secret  of 

success. 

What  matters  it  — 

“If  what  shone  afar  so  grand 
Turned  to  ashes  in  the  hand  ? 

On  again,  the  virtue  lies 
In  the  struggle,  not  the  prize.” 

Raphael  died  at  thirty-seven,  in  the  very  flush  of 
young  manhood,  before  he  had  finished  his  “  Transfigu¬ 
ration.”  Yet  he  had  produced  the  finest  picture  in  the 
world,  and  it  was  carried  in  his  funeral  procession, 
while  all  Pome  mourned  their  great  loss. 

Even  the  defeat  of  death  found  victorious  voice  in  the 
unequaled  requiem  of  Mozart. 

There  is  something  sublime  in  the  resolute,  fixed 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


315 


purpose  of  suffering  without  complaining,  which  makes 
disappointment  often  better  than  success.  Constant 
success  shows  us  only  one  side  of  the  world;  for  as 
it  surrounds  us  with  friends  who  tell  us  only  of  our 
merits,  so  it  silences  those  enemies  from  whom  only  we 
can  learn  our  defects. 

Columbus  was  carried  home  in  chains,  on  his  third 
voyage,  from  the  world  he  had  discovered.  Although 
the  indignant  people  remonstrated,  and  his  friend  the 
queen  had  him  set  free,  persecution  followed  him  when 
he  again  crossed  the  Atlantic  westward.  At  the  age  of 
seventy,  after  the  “  long  wandering  woe  ”  of  this  fourth 
and  final  voyage,  he  was  glad  to  reach  Spain  at  last. 
He  hoped  for  some  reward  —  at  least  enough  to  keep 
souk  and  body  together.  But  his  appeals  were  fruitless. 
He  lived  for  a  few  months  after  his  return,  poor,  lonely, 
and  stricken  with  a  mortal  disease.  Even  towards  his 
death  he  was  a  scarcely  tolerated  beggar.  He  had  to 
complain  that  his  frock  had  been  taken  and  sold,  that 
he  had  not  a  roof  of  his  own,  and  lacked  wherewithal 
to  pay  his  tavern  bill.  It  was  then  that,  with  failing 
breath,  he  uttered  the  words,  sublime  in  their  touching 
simplicity,  “I,  a  native  of  Genoa,  discovered  in  the 
distant  West,  the  continent  and  isles  of  India.”  He 
expired  at  Valladolid,  May  20,  1506,  his  last  words 
being,  “  Lord,  I  deliver  my  soul  into  thy  hands.”  Thus 
Columbus  died  a  neglected  beggar,  while  a  pickle-dealer 
of  Seville,  whose  highest  position  was  that  of  second 
mate  of  a  vessel,  gave  his  name  to  the  greatest  conti¬ 
nent  on  the  globe.  But  was  the  Genoese  mariner  a 
failure  ?  Ask  more  than  a  hundred  millions  of  people 
who  inhabit  the  world  he  found  a  wilderness.  Ask  the 
grandest  republic  the  sun  ever  shone  upon  if  Columbus 
was  a  failure. 

Joan  of  Arc  was  burned  alive  at  Kouen,  without  even 
a  remonstrance  from  Charles  VII.,  who  owed  her  his 
jrown.  Was  the  life  of  Joan  of  Arc  a  failure  ?  Ask  a 


316 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


nation  besprinkled  with  her  bronze  and  marble  statues 
if  the  memory  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  is  not  enshrined 
in  every  Frenchman’s  heart. 

“A  heroic  Wallace,  quartered  upon  the  scaffold,” 
said  Carlyle,  “  cannot  hinder  that  his  Scotland  become, 
one  day,  a  part  of  England ;  but  he  does  hinder  that  it 
become,  on  tyrannous,  unfair  terms,  a  part  of  it ;  com- 
mands  still,  as  with  a  god’s  voice,  from  his  old  Valhalla 
and  Temple  of  the  brave,  that  there  be  a  just,  real 
union  as  of  brother  and  brother,  not  a  false  and  merely 
semblant  one  as  of  slave  and  master.” 

Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  may  perish  after  de¬ 
fending  a  little  mountain-pass  against  the  vast  Persian 
army  for  three  days  in  hand  to  hand  conflict ;  but  their 
defeat  shall  prove  a  nation’s  victory,  and  they  shall  live 
in  song  and  story  when  Xerxes  and  his  vast  horde  will 
be  remembered  only  because  they  were  repulsed  at  Ther¬ 
mopylae  and  vanquished  at  Salamis  and  Platsea. 

When  the  troop-laden  English  ship  Birkenhead  was 
found  to  be  foundering  in  stress  of  weather,  the  officer 
in  charge  of  the  battalion  ordered  his  men  to  stand  at 
“ parade  rest”  while  the  boats  rowed  away  with  the 
women  and  children.  They  kept  their  places  as  the 
water  swashed  higher  and  higher  around  their  feet, 
and,  when  it  reached  their  waists,  unstrapped  their 
belts  and  held  aloft  their  cartridge-boxes  until  with 
a  wild  lurch  the  wreck  went  down.  Think  you  there 
was  no  victory  in  this  apparent  defeat  ?  Character  is 
power  and  triumphs  over  physical  weakness. 

“  A  man,  true  to  man’s  grave  religion,”  says  Bulwer, 
a  can  no  more  despise  a  life  wrecked  in  all  else,  while 
a  hallowing  affection  stands  out  sublime  through  the 
rents  and  chinks  of  fortune,  than  he  can  profane  with 
rude  mockery  a  temple  in  ruins  —  if  still  left  there  the 
altar.” 

The  exertion  of  all  your  strength  of  mind  or  body 
may  result  in  nothing  but  failure  in  the  eyes  of  a  crit- 


THE  VICTORY  IN  DEFEAT. 


317 


ical  world,  but  what  you  have  done  is  already  weighed 
in  the  scales  of  Omniscient  Justice,  and  can  in  no  way 
avoid  its  legitimate  reward.  Your  deed  is  registered  — • 

“In  the  rolls  of  Heaven,  where  it  will  live, 

A  theme  for  angels  when  they  celebrate 
The  high-souled  virtues  which  forgetful  earth 
Has  witnessed.” 


CHAPTER  XX, 


NERVE - GRIT,  GRIP,  PLUCK. 

When  you  get  into  a  tight  place,  and  everything  goes  against  you,  til? 
it  seems  as  if  you  could  not  hold  on  a  minute  longer,  never  give  up  then, 
for  that's  just  the  place  and  time  that  the  tide’ll  turn.  —  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

I  find  nothing  so  singular  in  life  as  this,  that  everything  opposing  ap 
pears  to  lose  its  substance  the  moment  one  actually  grapples  with  it. — 
Hawthorne. 

“  Never  give  up :  for  the  wisest  is  boldest, 

Knowing  that  Providence  mingles  the  cup; 

And  of  all  maxims,  the  best,  as  the  oldest, 

Is  the  stern  watchword  of  ‘  Never  give  up !  *  ** 

Be  firm  ;  one  constant  element  of  luck 
Is  genuine,  solid,  old  Teutonic  pluck. 

Stick  to  your  aim;  the  mongrel’s  hold  will  slip, 

But  only  crowbars  loose  the  bull-dog’s  grip; 

Small  though  he  looks,  the  jaw  that  never  yields 
Drags  down  the  bellowing  monarch  of  the  fields  ! 

Holmes. 

“Let  it  split, ”  said  a  professor,  when  told  that  his 
principles,  if  carried  out,  would  split  the  world  to  pieces ; 
“  there  are  enough  more  planets.” 

“  Soldiers,  you  are  Frenchmen,”  said  Napoleon,  coolly 
walking  among  his  disaffected  generals  when  they 
threatened  his  life  in  the  Egyptian  campaign  ;  “  you  are 
too  many  to  assassinate,  and  too  few  to  intimidate  me.” 
“  How  brave  he  is !  ”  exclaimed  the  ringleader,  as  he 
withdrew,  completely  cowed. 

“  General  Taylor  never  surrenders,”  said  old  “  Rough 
and  Ready  ”  at  Buena  Vista,  when  Santa  Anna  with 
20,000  men  offered  him  a  chance  to  save  his  4,000  sol 
diers  by  capitulation.  The  battle  was  long  and  despen 
ate,  but  at  length  the  Mexicans  were  glad  to  avoid 


NERVE—  GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK. 


319 


further  defeat  by  flight.  When  Lincoln  was  asked  how 
Grant  impressed  him  as  a  general,  he  replied,  “  The 
greatest  thing  about  him  is  cool  persistency  of  purpose. 
He  has  the  grip  of  a  bulldog ;  when  he  once  gets  his 
teeth  in,  nothing  can  shake  him  off.  It  was  “  On  to 
Richmond,”  and  “  I  shall  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it 
takes  all  summer,”  that  settled  the  fate  of  the  Rebel¬ 
lion. 

When  Caesar  was  captured  by  pirates,  they  offered  to 
release  him  for  twenty  talents.  “  It  is  too  little,”  said 
the  Roman,  “you  shall  have  fifty.  But  when  I  am  free 
I  will  crucify  every  one  of  you.”  He  kept  his  word. 

“  Oh !  if  the  duke  has  said  that,  of  course  t’  other 
fellow  must  give  way,”  said  Sydney  Smith,  just  before 
the  battle  of  Waterloo,  when  told  that  Wellington  had 
decided  to  keep  his  position  at  all  events. 

“  Go  it,  William !  ”  an  old  boxer  was  overheard  say¬ 
ing  to  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  fight ;  “  at  him  again  ! 
—  never  say  1  die ’ !  ” 

When  Philip  threatened  to  prohibit  the  enjoyment  of 
all  their  privileges,  the  Lacedaemonians  asked  whether 
he  would  also  prohibit  their  dying. 

“  My  sword  is  too  short,”  said  a  Spartan  youth  to  his 
father.  “  Add  a  step  to  it,  then,”  was  the  only  reply. 

It  is  said  that  the  snapping-turtle  will  not  release  his 
grip,  even  after  his  head  is  cut  off.  He  is  resolved,  if 
he  dies,  to  die  hard.  It  is  just  such  grit  that  enables 
many  a  man  to  succeed,  for  what  men  call  luck  is  gen¬ 
erally  the  prerogative  of  valiant  souls.  It  is  the  final 
effort  that  brings  victory.  It  is  the  last  pull  of  the  oar, 
with  clenched  teeth  and  knit  muscles,  that  shows  what 
Oxford  boatmen  call  “the  beefiness  of  the  fellow.” 
Cliauncey  Depew  said  to  a  class  of  young  men  :  “  After 
choosing  your  profession,  put  up  this  motto  over  your 
door,  1  Stick,  dig,  save.’  ” 

As  late  as  18G1  Grant  wrote  to  a  friend,  telling  his 
satisfaction  at  an  increase  of  salary  in  the  leather  bus! 


320 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


ness  at  Galena,  Ill.,  from  $  GOO  to  $800  a  year.  He 
expressed  a  hope  of  reaching  what  then  seemed  his 
highest  ambition,  a  partnership  in  the  firm.  In  May, 
1861,  he  communicated  with  the  general  in  command  at 
Washington,  asking  to  be  assigned  to  military  duty  not 
for  one,  three,  or  six  months,  but  until  the  close  of  the 
war,  in  such  capacity  as  might  offer.  No  notice  was 
ever  taken  of  this  request. 

At  forty  he  was  an  obscure  citizen  of  Galena.  At 
forty-two  he  was  known  as  one  of  the  greatest  generals 
in  history.  Speaking  of  Shiloh  he  once  said :  “  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  fail,  but  I  kept  right  on.”  It  is 
this  keeping  right  on  that  wins  in  the  battle  of  life. 
After  his  defeat  at  the  first  battle  of  Shiloh,  nearly 
every  newspaper  of  both  parties  in  the  North,  almost 
every  member  of  Congress,  and  public  sentiment  every¬ 
where  demanded  his  removal.  Friends” of  the  Presi¬ 
dent  pleaded  with  him  to  give  the  command  to  some  one 
else,  for  his  own  sake  as  well  as  for  the  good  of  the 
country.  Lincoln  listened  for  hours  one  night,  speak¬ 
ing  only  at  rare  intervals  to  tell  a  pithy  story,  until  the 
clock  struck  one.  Then,  after  a  long  silence,  he  said : 
“I  can’t  spare  this  man.  He  fights.”  It  was  Lincoln’s 
marvelous  insight  and  sagacity  that  saved  Grant  from 
the  storm  of  popular  passion,  and  gave  us  the  greatest 
hero  of  the  Civil  War. 

When  Fort  Henry  was  taken,  Halleck  advised  Grant 
to  defend  his  position.  Instead,  he  at  once  marched 
against  Fort  Donelson,  whose  commander  after  four 
days  of  hard  fighting  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  ascertain  on 
what  terms  a  capitulation  could  be  arranged.  “  Uncon¬ 
ditional  and  immediate  surrender,”  was  the  reply;  “I 
propose  to  move  immediately  upon  }^our  works ;  ”  but 
when  night  fell,  he  visited  Buckner  in  the  prisoner’s 
tent,  and  said,  “You  must  have  lost  everything;  take 
my  purse.” 

Grant  never  looked  backward.  Once,  after  several 


NER  VE  —  GRIT,  GRIP,  PL  UCK  321 

days  of  hard  fighting  without  definite  result,  he  called 
a  council  of  war.  One  general  described  the  route  by 
which  he  would  retreat,  another  thought  it  better  to 
retire  by  a  different  road,  and  general  after  general  told 
how  he  would  withdraw,  or  fall  back,  or  seek  a  more 
favorable  position  in  the  rear.  At  length  all  eyes  were 
turned  upon  Grant,  who  had  been  a  silent  listener  for 
hours.  He  rose,  took  a  bundle  of  papers  from  an  inside 
pocket,  handed  one  to  each  general,  and  said  :  “  Gentle¬ 
men,  at  dawn  you  will  execute  those  orders.”  Every 
paper  gave  definite  directions  for  an  advance,  and 
with  the  morning  sun  the  army  moved  forward  to  vic¬ 
tory. 

Astonished  at  a  command  to  storm  an  important  but 
strongly  defended  position,  an  officer  rode  back  and 
said :  “  General,  if  I  understand  your  order  aright,  it 
may  involve  the  sacrifice  of  every  man  in  my  com¬ 
mand.”  “  I  am  glad,  sir,  that  you  understand  my  order 
aright,”  replied  the  silent  general. 

For  thirty  days  he  rained  sledge-hammer  blows  upon 
Lee  in  the  Wilderness,  fighting  by  day,  advancing  by 
night.  The  country  shuddered  at  such  unheard-of  car¬ 
nage,  and  demanded  his  removal ;  but  ever  to  his 
inquiring  officers  came  the  cool  command,  “By  the  left 
flank,  forward,”  while  he  electrified  the  nation  by  the 
homeward  dispatch,  “  I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this 
line  if  it  takes  all  summer.”  When,  with  the  Confed¬ 
eracy  at  his  feet,  the  storm  of  vengeance  seemed  about 
to  burst,  his  magnanimous  words,  “  Let  us  have 
peace,”  fell  like  a  benediction  upon  the  hearts  of 
victors  and  vanquished  alike. 

When  Cannae  was  lost,  and  Hannibal  was  gathering 
in  measures  the  rings  of  the  Homan  knights  who  had 
perished  in  the  strife,  the  senate  of  Rome  voted  thanks 
to  the  defeated  general,  Consul  Terentius  Varro,  for  not 
having  despaired  of  the  republic. 

Pellisier,  the  Crimean  chief  of  zouaves,  became  angry 


822 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


with  a  sub-officer  of  cavalry,  and  struck  him  across  the 
face  with  a  whip.  The  man  drew  a  pistol  and  pulled 
the  trigger,  but  it  missed  fire.  “  Fellow,”  said  the 
grim  chief  coolly,  “  I  order  you  a  three  days’  arrest  for 
not  having  your  arms  in  better  order.” 

Massena’s  army  of  18,000  men  in  Genoa  had  been  re¬ 
duced  by  fighting  and  famine  to  8,000.  They  had  killed 
and  captured  more  than  15,000  Austrians,  but  their 
provisions  were  completely  exhausted  ;  starvation  stared 
them  in  the  face ;  the  enemy  outnumbered  them  four  to 
one,  and  they  seemed  at  the  mercy  of  their  opponents. 
General  Ott  demanded  a  discretionary  surrender,  but 
Massena  replied :  “  My  soldiers  must  be  allowed  to 

march  out  with  colors  flying,  and  arms  and  baggage ; 
not  as  prisoners  of  war,  but  free  to  fight  when  and 
where  we  please.  If  you  do  not  grant  this,  I  will  sally 
forth  from  Genoa  sword  in  hand.  With  eight  thousand 
famished  men  I  will  attack  your  camp,  and  I  will  fight 
till  I  cut  my  way  through  it.”  Ott  knew  the  temper  of 
the  great  soldier,  and  agreed  to  accept  the  terms  if  lie 
would  surrender  himself,  or  if  he  would  depart  by  sea 
sc  as  not  to  be  quickly  joined  by  reinforcements. 
Massena’s  only  reply  was  :  “  Take  my  terms,  or  I  will 

cut  my  way  through  your  army.”  Ott  at  last  agreed, 
when  Massena  said :  “  I  give  you  notice  that  ere 

fifteen  days  are  passed  I  shall  be  once  more  in  Genoa,” 
and  he  kept  his  word. 

Napoleon  said  of  this  man,  who  was  orphaned  in 
infancy  and  cast  upon  the  world  to  make  his  own  way 
in  life  :  “  When  defeated,  Massena  was  always  ready 

to  fight  a  battle  over  again,  as  though  he  had  been  the 
conqueror.” 

“The  battle  is  completely  lost,” said  Dessaix,  looking 
at  his  watch,  when  consulted  by  Napoleon  at  Marengo ; 
“but  it  is  only  two  o’clock,  and  we  shall  have  time  to 
gain  another.”  He  then  made  his  famous  cavalry 
charge,  and  won  the  field,  although  a  few  minutes 


1 


NER  VE  —  GRIT,  GRIP,  PL  UCK.  323 

before  the  French  soldiers  all  along  the  line  were  mo¬ 
mentarily  expecting  an  order  to  retreat. 

At  the  magazine  of  the  Mare  Island.  Navy  Yard, 
California,  sailors  from  the  U.  S.  S.  Boston  were  fill¬ 
ing  shells  when  suddenly  the  whole  building  went  up 
in  fire  and  smoke.  All  present  were  killed  instantly. 
About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  a  young  girl  was 
driving  in  a  pony-cart,  when  the  explosion  occurred, 
and  almost  immediately  afterward  a  doctor  rushed  from 
the  naval  hospital  towards  the  scene  of  the  disaster. 
Idealizing  the  situation,  she  asked  the  doctor  to  jump 
into  the  cart,  and  galloped  to  the  ruins.  Other  maga¬ 
zine  buildings,  in  which  shells  were  exploding  every 
moment,  had  caught  fire.  Explosives  were  stored  in 
those  buildings  in  quantities  sufficient  to  blow  up  Pike’s 
Peak.  Yet  the  doctor  and  the  girl  entered  the  pall  of 
smoke  amid  the  mangled  dead.  Collins,  the  watchman, 
half  blinded  and  bewildered  by  a  blow  from  a  fragment 
of  timber,  was  groping  his  way  from  building  to  build¬ 
ing,  to  prevent  further  disaster  by  shutting  the  iron 
doors  and  shutters.  The  girl  coolly  wrapped  a  ban¬ 
dage  round  his  injured  head,  and  then  looked  for  other 
wounded  until  more  help  arrived.  For  this  deed  of 
Bessie  McDougal,  a  general  order  of  the  Secretary  of 
the  Navy  was  read  from  the  quarterdeck  of  every  ves¬ 
sel  in  our  service,  tendering  the  thanks  of  the  nation. 

About  sunset,  July  G,  1881,  a  tempest  burst  with 
terrible  fury  in  Iowa.  In  an  hour  every  creek  had 
overflowed  its  banks,  and  the  I)es  Moines  River  had 
risen  six  feet ;  while  every  stream  bore  buildings,  lum¬ 
ber,  logs,  and  other  debris  madly  towards  the  Missis¬ 
sippi.  Kate  Shelley,  a  girl  of  eighteen,  stood  at  a 
window  listening  to  the  wild  tumult  without,  when  she 
happened  to  glance  in  the  direction  of  Honey  Creek 
railroad  bridge.  Through  the  deep  darkness  she  saw 
the  bright  headlight  of  a  locomotive  move  steadily 
along  for  a  moment,  and  drop  suddenly.  Only  her 


824 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


mother  and  a  little  brother  and  sister  were  at  home, 
but  Kate  lighted  an  old  lantern,  donned  a  waterproof 
cloak,  and  hastened  to  Honey  Creek.  She  found  a 
turbulent  torrent  against  whose  swollen  flood  she  could 
not  stand.  She  climbed  through  cruel  briars  and  bushes 
up  the  steep  bank  to  the  track,  crept  out  to  the  last  tie 
of  the  broken  bridge,  swung  her  lantern,  aiid  shouted 
at  the  top  of  her  voice.  A  faint  answer  out  of  the 
yawning  pit  came  from  the  engineer,  the  only  survivor 
of  the  crew  of  a  wrecked  freight  train.  He  said  that 
he  was  safe  for  the  time  on  some  broken  timbers,  and 
urged  her  to  go  to  Moingona  Station,  a  mile  away,  to 
seek  help  for  him  and  warn  the  fast  express,  then  nearly 
due.  Buffeted  by  the  gale,  she  struggled  along  to  the 
high  trestle,  five  hundred  feet  long,  over  the  Des 
Moines,  when  a  wild  gust  put  out  her  light.  She  had 
no  matches,  so  she  crawled  painfully  over  the  dizzy 
structure,  frequent  lurid  flashes  making  her  shudder  at 
the  sight  of  the  rushing  waters  far  below.  She  reached 
the  station,  told  her  story,  and  fell  unconscious  just 
before  the  express'  came  along.  The  legislature  voted 
her  a  gold  medal  for  bravery. 

Well,”  said  Barnum  to  a  friend  in  1841,  “  I  am  going 
to  buy  the  American  Museum.”  “  Buy  it !  ”  exclaimed 
the  astonished  friend,  who  knew  that  the  showman 
had  not  a  dollar ;  “  what  do  you  intend  buying  it 
with  ?  ”  “  Brass,”  was  the  prompt  reply,  “  for  silver 
and  gold  have  I  none.” 

Every  one  interested  in  public  entertainments  in 
Hew  York  knew  Barnum,  and  knew  the  condition  of 
his  pocket ;  but  Francis  Olmstead,  who  owned  the 
Museum  building,  consulted  numerous  references  all 
telling  of  “  a  good  showman,  who  would  do  as  he 
agreed,”  and  accepted  a  proposition  to  give  security 
for  the  purchaser.  Mr.  Olmstead  was  to  appoint  a 
money-taker  at  the  door,  and  credit  Barnum  towards  the 
purchase  with  all  above  expenses  and  an  allowance  of 


825 


NERVE —GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK. 

fifty  dollars  per  month  to  support  his  wife  and  three 
children.  Mrs.  Barnum  gladly  assented  to'  the  arrange¬ 
ment,  and  offered,  if  need  be,  to  cut  down  the  household 
expenses  to  a  little  more  than  a  dollar  a  day.  Some 
six  months  later  Mr.  01  instead  happened  to  enter  the 
ticket-office  at  noon,  and  found  Barnum  eating  for  din¬ 
ner  a  few  slices  of  bread  and  some. corned  beef.  “Is 
this  the  way  you  eat  your  dinner  ?  ”  he  asked. 

“  I  have  not  eaten  a  warm  dinner  since  I  bought  the 
Museum,  except  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  I  intend  never  to 
eat  another  until  I  get  out  of  debt.”  “  Ah  !  you  are 
safe,  and  will  pay  for  the  Museum  before  the  year  is 
out,”  said  Mr.  Olmstead,  slapping  the  young  man  ap¬ 
provingly  on  the  shoulder.  He  was  right,  for  in  less 
than  a  year  Barnum  had  paid  every  cent  out  of  the 
profits  of  the  establishment. 

“  We  discount  only  our  own  bills,  and  not  those  of 
private  persons,”  said  the  cashier  of  the  Bank  of  Eng¬ 
land,  when  a  large  bill  was  offered  drawn  by  Anselm 
Rothschild  of  Frankfort,  on  Nathan  Rothschild  of  Lon¬ 
don.  “  Private  persons  !  ”  exclaimed  Nathan,  when 
told  of  the  cashier’s  remark ;  “  I  will  make  these  gentle¬ 
men  see  what  sort  of  private  persons  we  are.”  Three 
weeks  later  he  presented  a  five-pound  note  at  the  bank 
at  the  opening  of  the  office.  The  teller  counted  out 
five  sovereigns,  looking  surprised  that  Baron  Rothschild 
should  have  troubled  himself  about  such  a  trifle.  The 
baron  examined  the  coins  one  by  one,  weighing  them 
in  the  balance,  as  he  said  “  the  law  gave  him  the  right 
to  do,”  put  them  into  a  little  canvas  bag,  and  offered  a 
second,  then  a  third,  fourth,  fiftieth,  thousandth  note. 
When  a  bag  was  full,  lie  handed  it  to  a  clerk  in  wait¬ 
ing,  and  proceeded  to  fill  another.  In  seven  hours  he 
had  changed  £21,000,  and,  with  nine  employees  of  his 
house  similarly  engaged,  had  occupied  the  tellers  so 
busily  in  changing  $1,050,000  worth  of  notes  that  no 
one  else  could  receive  attention.  The  bankers  laughed, 


326 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


but  the  next  morning  Rothschild  appeared  with  his 
nine  clerks  and  several  drays  to  carry  away  the  gold, 
remarking,  “  These  gentlemen  refuse  to  pay  my  bills  ; 
I  have  sworn  not  to  keep  theirs.  They  can  pay  at  their 
leisure,  only  I  notify  them  that  I  have  enough  to  em¬ 
ploy  them  for  two  months.”  The  smiles  faded  from 
the  features  of  the  bank  officials,  as  they  thought  of  a 
draft  of  $55,000,000  in  gold  which  they  did  not  hold, 
Next  morning  notice  was  given  in  the  newspapers  thaf 
the  Bank  of  England  would  pay  Rothschild’s  bills  as 
well  as  its  own. 

Three  hundred  thousand  men  had  fought  with  sullen 
fury  all  day,  but  the  French  had  been  steadily  repulsed 
until  Macdonald  was  sent  with  16,000  infantry  to  pierce 
the  Austrian  centre.  The  archduke  at  once  doubled 
his  lines,  brought  up  his  reserve  cavalry,  and  wheeled 
two  hundred  cannon  in  front  of  the  threatened  point. 
Straight  towards  such  overwhelming  odds,  for  about 
two  miles,  Macdonald  led  his  melting  ranks,  before  the 
astonished  gaze  of  both  armies,  which  seemed  to  have 
ceased  fighting  elsewhere  to  watch  the  march  of  such  a 
forlorn  hope  ;  then,  amid  the  concentrated  fire  of  100,- 
000  Austrians,  he  halted  a  moment  to  reform  his  sliab 
tered  columns.  His  eye  fell  upon  only  1,500  living 
Frenchmen  in  his  battalions,  behind  which  trailed  a 
long  black  line  of  the  dead  and  dying,  in  which  lay  ten 
out  of  every  eleven  with  whom  he  had  set  out. 

Men  of  steel  might  well  shrink  from  that  fire  of  hell 
which  blazed  at  their  breasts,  but  Macdonald’s  watch¬ 
word  was  ever  duty,  and  his  soldiers  had  caught  the 
spirit  of  their  chief.  Only  one  look  does  he  give  to 
that  windrow  of  death;  and  then,  glancing  from  his 
falling  heroes  to  the  dense  mass  of  foemen  in  front, 
the  single  word  “forward”  rings  like  a  clarion  cal] 
above  the  horrid  din.  Cheerily  as  at  a  holiday  parade 
drums  beat  and  trumpets  peal ;  with  elastic  bound  the 
remaining  few  leap  over  the  smoking  cannon,  rush 


NERVE  —  GRIT,  GRIP,  PLUCK. 


327 


through  charging  squadrons  of  cavalry,  and  plunge  into 
the  serried  columns  of  infantry  beyond,  which  seem 
fairly  pulverized  at  the  moral  shock  of  such  an  onset.. 
Into  the  breach  thus  opened  sweep  the  cuirassiers  of 
the  Old  Guard,  sent  by  Napoleon  to  support  the  brave 
Macdonald.  The  Austrians  are  wildly  routed,  Wagram 
is  won,  and  the  fate  of  Europe  is  sealed  for  four  years 

The  powder  of  the  garrison  of  Fort  Henry  was  ex 
hausted,  on  that  summer  day  of  1777,  and  the  Indians 
were  pressing  closer  and  closer,  emboldened  by  the 
silence  of  the  guns.  Ebenezer  Zane  suddenly  remem¬ 
bered  that  there  was  a  keg  in  his  house,  some  two  hun¬ 
dred  feet  away,  and  so  informed  Colonel  Shepard,  in 
command.  A  volunteer  was  called  for  to  attempt  the 
forlorn  task  of  going  for  it,  exposed  to  close  fire  from 
the  savages.  Every  man  offered  and  contended  eagerly 
for  the  honor,  but  Elizabeth  Zane  insisted  upon  going, 
saying  that  her  life  was  less  valuable  for  defense  than 
that  of  a  man.  She  was  just  graduated  from  a  school  in 
Philadelphia,  and,  with  other  young  ladies,  had  been 
aiding  the  soldiers  by  casting  bullets,  making  car¬ 
tridges,  and  loading  rifles.  Consent  was  given  reluct¬ 
antly,  and  she  passed  quickly  to  her  brother’s  house, 
the  Indians  watching  in  silent  wonder.  But  when  she 
was  seen  running  back  with  the  powder,  a  volley  of  bul¬ 
lets  followed  her,  but  without  effect.  The  powder 
saved  the  fort,  where  now  is  Wheeling,  West  Virginia. 

Amid  difficulties  and  dangers  before  unknown,  with 
hordes  of  savages  around  him,  and  winter  at  hand,  La 
Salle,  while  exploring  the  Mississippi,  brooded  not  “  on 
the  redoubled  ruin  that  had  befallen  him  —  the  de¬ 
sponding  friends,  the  exulting  foes,  the  wasted  energies, 
the  crushing  load  of  debt,  the  stormy  past,  the  dark  and 
lowering  future.  His  mind  was  of  a  different  temper. 
He  had  no  thought  but  to  grapple  with  adversity,  and 
out  of  the  fabric  of  his  ruin  to  rear  the  fabric  of  trh 
umphant  success/' 


328 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“Hard  pounding,  gentlemen,”  said  Wellington  at 
Waterloo  to  his  officers,  “  but  we  will  see  who  can 
pound  the  longest.” 

“  It  is  very  kind  of  them  to  1  sand ’  our  letters  for 
us,”  said  young  Junot  coolly,  as  an  Austrian  shell  scat¬ 
tered  earth  over  the  dispatch  he  was  writing  at  the 
dictation  of  his  commander-in-chief.  The  remark  at 
tracted  Napoleon’s  attention  and  led  to  the  promotion 
of  the  scrivener. 

Erskine,  the  great  advocate,  was  a  hero  at  the  bar ; 
but  when  he  entered  the  House  of  Commons,  there 
was  something  in  the  fixed  imperiousness  and  scorn  of 
Pitt  which  made  him  feel  inwardly  weak  and  fluttered. 
Erskine  had  flashes  of  heroism;  Pitt  had  consistent 
and  persistent  grit. 

A  Swedish  boy  fell  out  of  a  window  and  was  badly 
hurt,  but  with  clenched  lips  he  kept  back  the  cry  of 
pain.  The  king,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  who  saw  him 
fall,  prophesied  that  the  boy  would  make  a  man  for  an 
emergency.  And  so  he  did,  for  he  became  the  famous 
General  Bauer. 

The  Spartan  boy  was  dishonest  enough  to  steal  a  fox, 
but  proud  enough  to  let  the  beast  eat  out  his  vitals 
rather  than  risk  detection. 

“  There  is  room  enough  up  higher,”  said  Webster  to 
a  young  man  hesitating  to  study  law  because  the  pro¬ 
fession  was  so  crowded.  This  is  true  in  every  depart¬ 
ment  of  activity.  The  young  man  of  to-day  who  would 
succeed  must  hold  his  ground  and  push  hard.  Who¬ 
ever  attempts  to  pass  through  the  door  to  success  will 
find  it  labeled  in  large  letters,  “  Push.” 

After  a  severe  two  hours’  lesson  from  her  father, 
Taglioni,  the  great  danseuse,  would  fall  exhausted. 
Attendants  would  then  resuscitate  her  by  sponging 
and  friction,  when,  after  a  few  hours’  rest,  she  would  be 
ready  for  an  evening  performance. 

“  I  have  often  had  occasion,”  says  Washington  Irv* 


NERVE —GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK.  329 

mg,  “to  remark  the  fortitude  with  which  women  sustain 
the  most  overwhelming  reverses  of  fortune.  Those 
disasters  which  break  down  the  spirit  of  a  man,  and 
prostrate  him  in  the  dust,  seem  to  call  forth  all  the  en¬ 
ergies  of  the  softer  sex,  and  give  such  intrepidity  and 
elevation  to  their  character  that  at  times  it  approaches 
to  sublimity.” 

The  historian  Aquetil  refused  to  bend  his  knee  to 
Bonaparte.  He  chose  rather  the  direst  poverty,  and 
was  reduced  to  three  sous  a  day.  “  I  have  still,”  said 
he,  “  two  sous  a  day  left  for  the  conqueror  of  Marengo 
and  Austerlitz.  I  do  not  need  the  emperor’s  help  to 
die.” 

For  hours  John  B.  Gough  tried  to  speak  on  temper¬ 
ance  to  the  students  at  Oxford,  amid  shouting,  hooting, 
cat-calls,  derisive  yells,  impertinent  and  insulting  ques¬ 
tions,  and  every  conceivable  annoyance,  not  except¬ 
ing  personal  violence.  But  he  would  not  give  up,  and 
finally  captured  the  good  will  of  the  young  men  by' ap¬ 
pealing  to  their  sense  of  fair  play  in  the  novel  proposi¬ 
tion  that  speaker  and  audience  should  divide  the  time 
equally  between  them.  “You  shall  conduct  things  ac¬ 
cording  to  your  ideas  for  twenty  minutes  while  I  listen, 
and  then  I  will  talk  for  twenty  minutes  while  you  lis¬ 
ten.”  He  soon  charmed  them  so  much  with  his  won¬ 
derful  oratory  that  they  were  eager  to  give  him  their 
share  of  time. 

The  perfection  of  grit  is  the  power  of  saying  “No,” 
with  emphasis  that  cannot  be  mistaken.  Learn  to  meet 
hard  times  with  a  harder  will,  and  more  determined 
pluck.  The  nature  which  is  all  pine  and  straw  is  of  no 
use  in  times  of  trial,  we  must  have  some  oak  and  iron  in 
us.  The  goddess  of  fame  or  of  fortune  has  been  won 
by  many  a  poor  boy  who  had  no  friends,  no  backing,  or 
anything  but  pure  grit  and  invincible  purpose  to  com¬ 
mend  him. 

A  sun-browned  country  youth  called  on  Bishop  Simp- 


830 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


eon,  then  president  of  Asbury  University.  His  plain 
clotlies  led  the  bishop  to  ask  what  he  had  to  depend 
upon.  “  My  two  hands,  sir,”  replied  the  boy  who  after¬ 
ward  became  a  United  States  Senator. 

The  barriers  are  not  yet  erected  which  shall  shut  out 
aspiring  talent.  Give  a  boy  health  and  the  alphabet, 
and  it  rests  with  him  what  his  future  shall  be.  Those 
who  wait  for  luck  and  legacies  never  amount  to  mucho 
Who  ever  knew  of  a  man  becoming  wise  or  good  by 
luck  ?  Those  who  have  failed  in  life  usually  believe  in 
luck,  fate,  or  destiny.  They  will  cite  numerous  exam¬ 
ples  of  men  who  have  made  “  lucky  hits,”  or  who  have 
been  “  lucky  dogs.” 

“  The  chapter  of  accidents  is  the  bible  of  the  fool.” 

Emerson  says :  “  Shallow  men  believe  in  luck,  believe 
in  circumstances :  it  was  somebody’s  name,  or  he  hap¬ 
pened  to  be  there  at  the  time,  or  it  was  so  then,  and 
another  day  it  would  have  been  otherwise.  Strong  men 
believe  in  cause  and  effect.  All  successful  men  have 
agreed  in  one  thing,  —  they  were  causationists.  They 
believed  that  things  went  not  by  luck  but  by  law  ;  that 
there  was  not  a  weak  or  a  cracked  link  in  the  chain 
that  joins  the  first  and  last  of  things.” 

Goethe  says  that  industry  is  nine  tenths  of  genius, 
and  adds :  “  It  never  occurs  to  fools  that  merit  and 
good  fortune  are  closely  united.” 

“  Diligence  is  the  mother  of  good  luck,”  said  Frank¬ 
lin. 

“I  may  here  impart  the  secret  of  what  is  called  good 
and  bad  luck,”  said  Addison.  “There  are  men  who, 
supposing  Providence  to  have  an  implacable  spite 
against  them,  bemoan  in  the  poverty  of  old  age  the  mis¬ 
fortunes  of  their  lives.  Luck  forever  runs  against 
them,  and  for  others.  One  with  a  good  profession  lost 
his  luck  in  the  river,  where  he  idled  away  his  time 
a-fishing.  Another  with  a  good  trade  perpetually  burnt 
up  his  luck  by  his  hot  temper,  which  provoked  all  his 


NERVE— GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK.  331 

employees  to  leave  him.  Another  with  a  lucrative 
business  lost  his  luck  by  amazing  diligence  at  every¬ 
thing  but  his  own  business.  Another  who  steadily  fol¬ 
lowed  his  trade,  as  steadily  followed  the  bottle.  An¬ 
other  who  was  honest  and  constant  to  his  work,  erred 
by  his  perpetual  misjudgment, — he  lacked  discretion 
Hundreds  lose  their  luck  by  indorsing,  by  sanguine  ex 
pectations,  by  trusting  fraudulent  men,  and  by  dishonest 
gains.  A  man  never  has  good  luck  who  has  a  bad  wife. 

I  never  knew  an  early-rising,  hard-working,  prudent 
man,  careful  of  his  earnings  and  strictly  honest,  who 
complained  of  his  bad  luck.  A  good  character,  good 
habits,  and  iron  industry  are  impregnable  to  the  as¬ 
saults  of  the  ill  luck  that  fools  are  dreaming  of.  But 
when  I  see  a  tatterdemalion  creeping  out  of  a  grocery 
late  in  the  forenoon  with  his  hands  stuck  into  his 
pockets,  the  rim  of  his  hat  turned  up,  and  the  crown 
knocked  in,  I  know  he  has  had  bad  luck,  —  for  the 
worst  of  all  luck  is  to  be  a  sluggard,  a  knave,  or  a  tip¬ 
pler.” 

There  is  no  luck,  for  all  practical  purposes,  to  him 
who  is  not  striving,  and  whose  senses  are  not  all  eagerly 
attent.  What  are  called  accidental  discoveries  are  al¬ 
most  invariably  made  by  those  who  are  looking  for  some¬ 
thing.  A  man  incurs  about  as  much  risk  of  being  struck 
by  lightning  as  by  accidental  luck.  There  is,  perhaps, 
an  element  of  luck  in  the  amount  of  success  which 
crowns  the  efforts  of  different  men ;  but  even  here  it  ' 
will  usually  be  found  that  the  sagacity  with  which  the 
efforts  are  directed  and  the  energy  with  which  they  are 
prosecuted  measure  pretty  accurately  the  luck  contained 
in  the  results  achieved.  Apparent  exceptions  will  be 
found  to  relate  almost  wholly  to  single  undertakings, 
while  in  the  long  run  the  rule  will  hold  good.  Two 
pearl-divers,  equally  expert,  dive  together  and  work 
with  equal  energy.  One  brings  up  a  pearl,  while  the 
other  returns  empty-handed.  But  let  both  persevere  and 


332 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


at  the  end  of  five,  ten,  or  twenty  years  it  will  be  found 
that  they  succeeded  almost  in  exact  proportion  to  their 
skill  and  industry. 

“  With  the  aid  or  under  the  influence  of  pluck/’  says 
the  London  “  Lancet,”  “  it  is  possible  not  only  to  sur¬ 
mount  what  appear  to  be  insuperable  obstructions,  but  to 
defy  and  repel  the  ennuities  of  climate,  adverse  circum¬ 
stances,  and  even  disease.  Many  a  life  has  been  saved 
by  the  moral  courage  of  a  sufferer.  It  is  not  alone  in 
bearing  the  pain  of  operations  or  the  misery  of  confine¬ 
ment  in  a  sick-room,  this  self-help  becomes  of  vital  mo¬ 
ment,  but  in  the  monotonous  tracking  of  a  weary  path, 
and  the  vigorous  discharge  of  ordinary  duty.  How 
many  a  victim  of  incurable  disease  has  lived  on  through, 
years  of  suffering,  patiently  and  resolutely  hoping 
against  hope,  or,  what  is  better,  living  down  despair, 
until  the  virulence  of  a  threatening  malady  has  died 
out,  and  it  has  ceased  to  be  destructive,  although  its 
physical  characteristics  remained  !  ”  Some  patients  ab¬ 
solutely  refuse  to  die.  What  can  a  doctor  do  with 
such  cases  but  let  them  live  ?  Even  his  pills  will  not 
kill  them. 

“  The  ruin  which  overtakes  so  many  merchants,”  says 
Whipple,  “  is  due  not  so  much  to  their  lack  of  business 
ialent  as  to  their  lack  of  business  nerve.  How  many 
lovable  persons  we  see  in  trade,  endowed  with  brilliant 
capacities,  but  cursed  with  yielding  dispositions,  —  who 
are  resolute  in  no  business  habits  and  fixed  in  no  busi¬ 
ness  principles,  —  who  are  prone  to  follow  the  instincts 
of  a  weak  good  nature  against  the  ominous  hints  of  a 
clear  intelligence,  now  obliging  this  friend  by  indorsing 
an  unsafe  note,  and  then  pleasing  that  neighbor  by  shar¬ 
ing  his  risk  in  a  hopeless  speculation,  —  and  who,  after 
all  the  capital  they  have  earned  by  their  industry  and 
sagacity  has  been  sunk  in  benevolent  attempts  to  assist 
blundering  or  plundering  incapacity,  are  doomed,  in 
their  bankruptcy,  to  be  the  mark  of  bitter  taunts  from 


NERVE  —  GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK.  333 

growling  creditors  and  insolent  pity  from  a  gossiping 
public.” 

“  A  somewhat  varied  experience  of  men  has  led  me, 
the  longer  I  live,”  says  Huxley,  “to  set  less  value  on 
mere  cleverness  ;  to  attach  more  and  more  importance  to 
industry  and  physical  endurance.  Indeed,  I  am  much 
disposed  to  think  that  endurance  is  the  most  valuable 
quality  of  all ;  for  industry,  as  the  desire  to  work  hard, 
does  not  come  to  much  if  a  feeble  frame  is  unable  to  re¬ 
spond  to  the  desire.  No  life  is  wasted  unless  it  ends  in 
sloth,  dishonesty,  or  cowardice.  No  success  is  worthy 
of  the  name  unless  it  is  won  by  honest  industry  and 
brave  breasting  of  the  waves  of  fortune.” 

Has  God  abdicated  ?  Is  the  universe  an  infinite 
chaos,  in  which  order  has  no  throne  ?  Is  law  a  fable  ? 
Is  life  a  Babel  ?  Is  the  world  a  Pandemonium  ?  Then 
is  there  such  a  game  of  chance  as  men  call  luck.  But 
as  long  as  the  smallest  atom  or  the  largest  sun,  the  in¬ 
visible  animalcule  or  the  most  glorious  archangel,  the 
soul  soaring  from  its  tenement  of  clay  or  the  sparrow 
falling  to  the  earth,  acknowledge  equally  His  ruling 
power,  Nature  will  play  no  bliiidman’s-buff.  If  ten 
deaf,  dumb,  and  blind  men  were  placed  in  line  in  a  ten- 
acre  lot,  and  left  to  wander  until  all  who  lived  long 
enough  were  in  line  once  more,  the  thing  would  be  ac¬ 
complished  only  at  the  death  of  the  ninth  man.  Has 
luck  ever  made  a  fool  speak  words  of  wisdom ;  an  igno¬ 
ramus  utter  lectures  on  science ;  a  dolt  write  an  Odys¬ 
sey,  an  ^Eneid,  a  Paradise  Lost,  or  a  Hamlet ;  a  loafer 
become  a  Girard  or  Astor,  a  Rothschild,  Stewart,  Vander¬ 
bilt,  Field,  Gould,  or  Rockefeller ;  a  coward  win  at  York- 
town,  Wagram,  Waterloo,  or  Richmond  ;  a  careless  stone¬ 
cutter  carve  an  Apollo,  a  Minerva,  a  Venus  de  Medici, 
or  a  Greek  Slave  ?  Hoes  luck  raise  rich  crops  on  the 
land  of  the  sluggard,  weeds  and  brambles  on  that  of  the 
industrious  farmer  ?  Hoes  luck  make  the  drunkard 
sleek  and  attractive,  and  his  home  cheerful,  while  the 


B34 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


temperate  man  looks  haggard  and  suffers  want  and 
misery  ?  Does  luck  starve  honest  labor,  and  pampei 
idleness  ?  Does  luck  put  common  sense  at  a  discount, 
folly  at  a  premium  ?  Does  it  cast  intelligence  into  the 
gutter,  and  raise  ignorance  to  the  skies  ?  Does  it  im¬ 
prison  virtue,  and  laud  vice  ?  Did  luck  give  Watt  his 
engine,  Franklin  his  captive  lightning,  Whitney  his  cot¬ 
ton-gin,  Fulton  his  steamboat,  Morse  his  telegraph, 
Blanchard  his  lathe,  Howe  his  sewing-machine,  Good¬ 
year  his  rubber,  Bell  his  telephone,  Edison  his  phono¬ 
graph  ? 

If  you  are  told  of  the  man  who,  worn  out  by  a  pain¬ 
ful  disorder,  tried  to  commit  suicide,  but  only  opened  an 
internal  tumor,  effecting  a  cure  ;  of  the  Persian  con¬ 
demned  to  lose  his  tongue,  on  whom  a  bungling  opera¬ 
tion  merely  removed  an  impediment  of  speech ;  of  a 
painter  who  produced  an  effect  long  desired  by  throwing 
his  brush  at  a  picture  in  rage  and  despair  ;  of  a  musician 
who,  after  repeated  failures  in  trying  to  imitate  a  storm 
at  sea,  obtained  the  result  desired  by  angrily  running 
his  hands  together  from  the  extremities  of  the  key¬ 
board,  —  bear  in  mind  that  even  this  “  luck 99  came  to 
men  as  the  result  of  action,  not  inaction. 

.  One  merchant  lost  his  store,  his  only  property,  in  the 
Chicago  fire.  A  competitor  just  across  the  street  occu¬ 
pied  a  store  which  was  saved.  In  consequence  of  the 
great  demand  for  business  blocks  after  the  fire  and  the 
enormous  increase  of  business,  the  latter  became  wealthy. 
Here,  indeed,  circumstances  seemed  to  govern  the  rela¬ 
tive  success  and  failure  of  these  two  men  ;  but  they 
were  circumstances  over  which  neither  had  control. 
The  one  might  have  provided  for  the  contingency  of 
such  loss  by  insuring  his  store  and  goods  ;  but  even  in 
so  doing  he  was  liable  to  select  companies  that  would 
be  ruined  by  the  enormous  demand  upon  them,  and  so 
made  unable  to  pay  the  insurance.  The  good  fortune 
of  the  other  seemed  inevitable.  Such  a  calamity  as  be< 


NERVE— GRIT,  GRIP ,  PLUCK.  335 

fell  the  first,  and  such  an  opportunity  as  was  afforded 
the  second,  independently  of  their  volition  in  both 
instances,  comes  to  not  more  than  one  man  in  ten 
thousand.  As  J uvenal  says,  “  A  lucky  man  is  rarer 
than  a  white  crow.” 

Bealizing  that  “  unlucky  people  ”  are  usually  shiftless 
and  lazy,  Baron  Bothschild  and  P.  T.  Barnum  would 
have  no  business  relations  with  them,  for  philosophical 
reasons.  A.  T.  Stewart  had  a  similar  aversion,  but  was 
somewhat  superstitious  in  his  belief  that  it  did  not  pay 
him  to  trade  with  them  in  any  way.  He  said  that  if  the 
first  person  to  whom  he  sold  goods  from  a  newly  opened 
lot  was  unlucky,  he  would  lose  on  the  entire  lot.  An 
old  woman  who  sold  apples  in  front  of  his  little  down¬ 
town  store  as  a  pretense  to  cover  her  real  business  of 
begging,  so  impressed  him  with  the  idea  that  she  was 
his  guardian  angel  that  he  personally  moved  her  things 
in  front  of  his  new  store,  so  anxious  was  he  to  have  her 
there.  Grover  Cleveland  also  believed  in  luck.  During 
his  first  candidacy  for  the  office  of  President  of  the 
United  States,  he  said :  “  I  am  certain  to  be  elected :  it ’s 
just  my  luck.” 

“  Luck  is  ever  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up,”  says 
Cobden ;  “  labor,  with  keen  eyes  and  strong  will,  will 
turn  up  something.  Luck  lies  in  bed,  and  wishes  the 
postman  would  bring  him  the  news  of  a  legacy ;  labor 
turns  out  at  six  o’clock,  and  with  busy  pen  or  ringing 
hammer  lays  the  foundation  of  a  competence.  Luck 
whines  ;  labor  whistles.  Luck  relies  on  chance ;  labor, 
on  character.” 

Stick  to  the  thing  and  carry  it  through.  Believe  you 
were  made  for  the  place  you  fill,  and  that  no  one  else 
can  fill  it  as  well.  Put  forth  your  whole  energies.  Be 
awake,  electrify  yourself ;  go  forth  to  the  task.  Only 
once  learn  to  carry  a  thing  through  in  all  its  complete¬ 
ness  and  proportion,  and  you  will  become  a  hero.  You 
will  think  better  of  yourself  j  others  will  think  better  of 


336 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


you.  The  world  in  its  very  heart  admires  the  stern, 
determined  doer. 

u  I  like  the  man  who  faces  what  he  must 
With  step  triumphant  and  a  heart  of  cheer  ; 

Who  fights  the  daily  battle  without  fear  ; 

Sees  his  hopes  fail,  yet  keeps  unfaltering  trust 
That  God  is  God  ;  that  somehow,  true  and  just, 

His  plans  work  out  for  mortals  ;  not  a  tear 
Is  shed  when  fortune,  which  the  world  holds  dear. 

Falls  from  his  grasp  ;  better,  with  love,  a  crust 
Than  living  in  dishonor  ;  envies  not, 

Nor  loses  faith  in  man  ;  but  does  his  best, 

Nor  even  murmurs  at  his  humbler  lot; 

But  with  a  smile  and  words  of  hope,  gives  zest 
To  every  toiler ;  he  alone  is  great, 

Who  by  a  life  heroic  conquers  fate.” 


CHAPTER  XXL 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE. 

Every  noble  work  is  at  first  impossible.  —  Carlyle. 

The  falling  drops  at  last  will  wear  the  stone.  —  Lucretius. 

Victory  belongs  to  the  most  persevering.  —  Napoleon. 

Success  in  most  things  depends  on  knowing  how  long  it  takes  to  succeed. 
—  Montesquieu. 

Perpetual  pushing  and  assurance  put  a  difficulty  out  of  countenance,  and 
make  a  seeming  impossibility  give  way.  —  Jeremy  Collier. 

I  hate  inconstancy  —  I  loathe,  detest, 

Abhor,  condemn,  abjure  the  mortal  made 
Of  such  quicksilver  clay  that  in  his  breast 
No  permanent  foundation  can  be  laid. 

Byron. 

An  enterprise,  when  fairly  once  begun, 

Should  not  be  left  till  all  that  ought  is  won. 

Shakespeare. 

“Unstable  as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel.” 

The  nerve  that  never  relaxes,  the  eye  that  never  blenches,  the  thought 
that  never  wanders,  —  these  are  the  masters  of  victory.  —  Burke. 

In  the  lexicon  of  3routh,  which  fate  reserves  for  a  bright  manhood,  there 
is  no  such  word  as  fail.  —  Bulwer. 

“  The  pit  rose  at  me  !  ”  exclaimed  Edmund  Kean  in  a 
wild  tumult  of  emotion,  as  he  rushed  home  to  his  trem¬ 
bling  wife.  “  Mary,  you  shall  ride  in  your  carriage  yet, 
and  Charles  shall  go  to  Eton  !  ”  He  had  been  so  terribly 
in  earnest  with  the  study  of  his  profession  that  he  had 
at  length  made  a  mark  on  his  generation.  He  was  a 
little  dark  man  with  a  voice  naturally  harsh,  but  he 
determined,  when  young,  to  play  the  character  of  Sir 
Giles  Overreach,  in  Massinger’s  drama,  as  no  other  man 
had  ever  played  it.  By  a-  persistency  that  nothing 
seemed  able  to  daunt,  he  so  trained  himself  to  play  the 


338 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


character  that  his  success,  when  it  did  come,  was  over*  1 
whelming,  and  all  London  was  at  his  feet. 

“  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  don’t  think  this  is  in  your 
line,”  said  Woodfall  the  reporter,  after  Sheridan  had 
made  his  first  speech  in  Parliament.  “  You  had  better 
have  stuck  to  your  former  pursuits.”  With  head  on 
his  hand  Sheridan  mused  for  a  time,  then  looked  up 
and  said,  “  It  is  in  me,  and  it  shall  come  out  of  me.” 
Prom  the  same  man  came  that  harangue  against  Warren 
Hastings  which  the  orator  Fox  called  the  best  speech 
ever  made  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

“  I  had  no  other  books  than  heaven  and  earth,  which 
are  open  to  all,”  said  Bernard  Palissy,  who  left  his 
home  in  the  south  of  France  in  1828,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen.  Though  only  a  glass-painter,  he  had  the  soul 
of  an  artist,  and  the  sight  of  an  elegant  Italian  cup  dis¬ 
turbed  his  whole  existence ;  and  from  that  moment  the 
determination  to  discover  the  enamel  with  which  it  was 
glazed  possessed  him  like  a  passion.  For  months  and 
years  he  tried  all  kinds  of  experiments  to  learn  the 
materials  of  which  the  enamel  was  compounded.  He 
built  a  furnace,  which  was  a  failure,  and  then  a  second, 
burning  so  much  wood,  spoiling  so  many  drugs  and  pots 
of  common  earthenware,  and  losing  so  much  time,  that 
poverty  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  was  forced  to  try 
his  experiments  in  a  common  furnace,  from  lack  of  abil¬ 
ity  to  buy  fuel.  Flat  failure  was  the  result,  but  he  de¬ 
cided  on  the  spot  to  begin  all  over  again,  and  soon  had 
three  hundred  pieces  baking,  one  of  which  came  out 
covered  with  beautiful  enamel.  To  perfect  his  inven¬ 
tion  he  next  built  a  glass-furnace,  carrying  the  bricks  on 
his  back.  At  last  the  time  came  for  a  trial ;  but,  though 
he  kept  the  heat  up  six  days,  his  enamel  would  not 
melt.  His  money  was  all  gone,  but  he  borrowed  soma 
and  bought  more  pots  and  wood,  and  tried  to  get  a 
better  flux.  Wh£n  next  he  lighted  his  fire,  he  attained 
no  result  until  his  fuel  was  gone.  Tearing  off  the  pal« 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  339 

ings  of  his  garden  fence,  he  fed  them  to  the  flames,  but 
in  vain.  His  furniture  followed  to  no  purpose.  The 
shelves  of  his  pantry  were  then  broken  up  and  thrown 
into  the  furnace ;  and  the  great  burst  of  heat  melted  the 
enamel.  The  grand  secret  was  learned.  Persistence 
had  triumphed  again. 

(  k  or  me,  too,3’  said  Mendelssohn,  “  the  hour  of  rest 
will  come ;  do  the  next  thing.” 

“If  you  work  hard  two  weeks  without  selling  a 
book,”  wrote  a  publisher  to  an  agent,  “  you  will  make 
a  success  of  it.” 

“  Know  thy  work  and  do  it,”  said  Carlyle  ;  “  and 
work  at  it  like  a  Hercules,  One  monster  there  is  in 
the  world  —  an  idle  man.” 

“  Whoever  is  resolved  to  excel  in  painting,  or,  indeed, 
in  any  other  art,”  said  Reynolds,  “  must  bring  all  his 
mind  to  bear  upon  that  one  object  from  the  moment  that 
he  rises  till  he  goes  to  bed.” 

“  Those  who  are  resolved  to  excel  must  go  to  their 
work,  willing  or  unwilling,  morning,  noon,  and  night,” 
said  Reynolds;  “they  will  find  it  no  play,  but  very 
hard  labor.” 

“  I  have  no  secret  but  hard  work,”  said  Turner  the 
painter. 

“Young  gentlemen,”  said  Francis  Wayland,  “remem¬ 
ber  that  nothing  can  stand  days’  work.” 

“My  sons,”  said  a  dying  farmer  to  his  three  indolent 
ooys,  “a  great  treasure  lies  hid  in  the  estate  which  I 
am  about  to  leave  to  you.”  “  Where  is  it  hid  ?  ”  asked 
the  eager  sons  in  chorus.  “I  am  about  to  tell  you,” 
gasped  the  sick  man  ;  “  you  will  have  to  dig  for  it  ”  — 
but  here  his  spirit  departed.  The  sons  turned  over 
ever}r  sod  upon  the  estate,  without  finding  any  buried 
gold ;  but  they  learned  to  work,  and  when  the  fields 
were  sown,  an  enormous  harvest  repaid  their  thorough 
digging. 

“The  man  who  is  perpetually  hesitating  which  of 


340 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


two  things  lie  will  do  first/’  said  William  Wirt,  “  will 
do  neither.  .  The  man  who  resolves,  but  suffers  his  re¬ 
solution  to  be  changed  by  the  first  counter-suggestion 
of  a  friend' — who  fluctuates  from  opinion  to  opinion, 
from  plan  to  plan,  and  veers  like  a  weather-cock  to 
every  point  of  the  compass,  with  every  breath  of 
caprice  that  blows,  can  never  accomplish  anything 
great  or  useful.  Instead  of  being  progressive  in 
anything,  he  will  be  at  best  stationary,  and,  more 
probably,  retrograde  in  all. 

“Who  first  consults  wisely,  then  resolves  firmly, 
and  then  executes  his  purpose  with  inflexible  persever¬ 
ance,  undismayed  by  those  petty  difficulties  which 
daunt  a  weaker  spirit  —  that  man  can  advance  to  emi¬ 
nence  in  any  line.” 

We  are  told  that  perseverance  built  the  pyramids  on 
Egypt’s  plains,  erected  the  gorgeous  temple  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  inclosed  in  adamant  the  Chinese  Empire,  scaled 
the  stormy,  cloud-capped  Alps,  opened  a  highway 
through  the  watery  wilderness  of  the  Atlantic,  leveled 
the  forests  of  the  new  world,  and  reared  in  its  stead  a 
community  of  states  and  nations.  Perseverance  has 
wrought  from  the  marble  block  the  exquisite  creations 
of  genius,  painted  on  canvas  the  gorgeous  mimicry  of 
nature,  and  engraved  on  a  metallic  surface  the  viewless 
substance  of  the  shadow.  Perseverance  has  put  in  mo¬ 
tion  millions  of  spindles,  winged  as  many  flying 
shuttles,  harnessed  thousands  of  iron  steeds  to  as  many 
freighted  cars,  and  set  them  flying  from  town  to  town 
and  nation  to  nation,  tunneled  mountains  of  granite,  and 
annihilated  space  with  the  lightning’s  speed.  Perse¬ 
verance  has  whitened  the  waters  of  the  world  with  the 
sails  of  a  hundred  nations,  navigated  every  sea  and 
explored  every  land.  Perseverance  has  reduced  nature 
in  her  thousand  forms  to  as  many  sciences,  taught  her 
laws,  prophesied  her  future  movements,  measured  her 
untrodden  spaces,  counted  her  myriad  hosts  of  worlds^ 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  341 

and  computed  their  distances,  dimensions,  and  veloci¬ 
ties. 

Lofty  mountains  are  wearing  down  slow  degrees,, 
The  ocean  is  gradually  but  slowly  filling  up>  by  de¬ 
posits  from  its  thousand  rivers.  The  Niagara  Falls 
have  worn  back  seven  miles  through  the  hard  lime¬ 
stone,  over  which  they  pour  their  thundering  columns 
of  water,  and  will  by  and  by  drain  the  great  lake  which 
feeds  the  boiling  chasm.  The  Led  Sea  and  whole 
regions  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  are  gradually  filling  up 
by  the  labors  of  a  little  insect,  so  small  as  to  be  almost 
invisible  to  the  naked  eye. 

The  slow  penny  is  surer  than  the  quick  dollar.  The 
slow  trotter  will  out-travel  the  fleet  racer.  Genius  darts, 
flutters,  and  tires  ;  but  perseverance  wears  and  wins. 
The  all-day  horse  wins  the  race.  The  afternoon-man 
wears  off  the  laurels.  The  last  blow  drives  home  the 
nail. 

“  Are  your  discoveries  often  brilliant  intuitions  ?  ” 
asked  a  reporter  of  Thomas  A.  Edison.  “  Do  they  come 
to  you  while  you  are  lying  awake  nights  ?  ” 

“  I  never  did  anything  worth  doing  by  accident,”  was 
the  reply,  “  nor  did  any  of  my  inventions  come  in¬ 
directly  through  accident,  except  the  phonograph.  No, 
when  I  have  fully  decided  that  a  result  is  worth  getting 
I  go  ahead  on  it  and  make  trial  after  trial  until  it 
comes.  I  have  always  kept  strictly  within  the  lines  of 
commercially  useful  inventions.  I  have  never  had  any 
time  to  put  on  electrical  wonders,  valuable  simply  as 
novelties  to  catch  the  popular  fancy.  I  like  it,”  con¬ 
tinued  the  great  inventor.  “  I  don’t  know  any  other 
reason.  You  know  some  people  like  to  collect  stamps. 
Anything  I  have  begun  is  always  on  my  mind,  and  I 
am  not  easy  while  away  from  it  until  it  is  finished.” 

A  man  who  thus  gives  himself  wholly  to  his  work  is 
certain  to  accomplish  something ;  and  if  he  have  ability 
and  common  sense,  his  success  will  be  great. 


342 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  Acting  does  not,  like  Dogberry’s  reading  and  writ* 
ing,  ‘come  by  nature/  ”  said  the  elder  Kean;  “with  all 
the  high  qualities  which  go  to  the  formation  of  a  great 
exponent  of  the  book  of  life  (for  so  the  stage  may  justly 
be  called),  it  is  impossible,  totally  impossible,  to  leap  at 
once  to  fame.  ‘  What  wound  did  ever  heal  but  by  slow 
degrees  ?  ’  says  our  immortal  author ;  and  what  man, 
say  I,  ever  became  an  ‘  actor  ’  without  a  long  and  sedu¬ 
lous  apprenticeship  ?  I  know  that  many  think  to  step 
from  behind  a  counter  or  jump  from  the  high  stool  of 
an  office  to  the  boards,  and  take  the  town  by  storm  in 
Richard  or  Othello,  is  as  *  easy  as  lying.’  Oh,  the  born 
idiots !  they  remind  me  of  the  halfpenny  candles  stuck 
in  the  windows  on  illumination-nights ;  they  flicker 
and  flutter  their  brief  minute,  and  go  out  unheeded. 
Barn-storming,  my  lads,  barn-storming,  —  that ’s  the 
touchstone ;  by  that  I  won  my  spurs ;  so  did  Garrick, 
Henderson,  and  Kemble ;  and  so,  on  the  other  side 
.of  the  water,  did  my  almost  namesake  Lekain  and 
Talma.” 

How  Bulwer  wrestled  with  the  fates  to  change  his 
apparent  destiny !  His  first  novel  was  a  failure ;  his 
early  poems  were  failures ;  and  his  youthful  speeches 
provoked  the  ridicule  of  his  opponents.  But  he  fought 
his  way  to  eminence  through  ridicule  and  defeat. 

Gibbon  worked  twenty  years  on  his  “Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.”  Noah  Webster  spent 
thirty-six  years  on  his  dictionary.  What  a  sublime 
patience  he  showed  in  devoting  a  life  to  the  collec¬ 
tion  and  definition  of  words.  George  Bancroft  spent 
twenty-six  years  on  liis  “History  of  the  United  States.” 
Newton  rewrote  his  “  Chronology  of  Ancient  Nations  ” 
fifteen  times.  Titian  wrote  to  Charles  V. :  “I  send 
your  majesty  the  Last  Supper,  after  working  on  it 
almost  daily  for  seven  years.”  He  worked  on  his 
Pietro  Marty n  eight  years.  George  Stephenson  was 
fifteen  years  perfecting  his  locomotive;  Watt,  twenty 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  343 


years  on  his  condensing-engine.  Harvey  labored  eight 
long  years  before  he  published  his  discovery  of  the 
circulation  of  the  blood.  He  was  then  called  a  crack- 
brained  impostor  by  his  fellow  physicians.  Amid  abuse 
and  ridicule  he  waited  twenty-five  years  before  his  great 
discovery  was  recognized  by  the  profession. 

Newton  discovered  the  law  of  gravitation  before  he 
was  twenty-one,  but  one  slight  error  in  a  measurement 
of  the  earth’s  circumference  interfered  with  a  demon¬ 
stration  of  the  correctness  of  his  theory.  Twenty 
years  later  he  corrected  the  error,  and  showed  that  the 
planets  roll  in  their  orbits  as  a  result  of  the  same  law 
which  brings  an  apple  to  the  ground. 

Missionaries  preached  ten  years  in  Madagascar  be¬ 
fore  they  obtained  a  convert.  Dr.  Judson  labored  five 
years  in  Burmah,  and  Dr.  Morrison  seven  in  China,  be¬ 
fore  one  native  became  a  Christian.  For  fifteen  years 
in  Tahiti,  and  seventeen  in  Bengal,  the  work  seemed  all 
in  vain. 

An  Italian  music-teaclier  once  told  a  pupil  who 
wished  to  know  what  could  be  hoped  for  with  study : 
“  If  you  will  study  a  year  I  will  teach  you  to  sing  well ; 
if  two  years,  you  may  excel.  If  you  will  practice  the 
scale  constantly  for  three  years,  I  will  make  you  the 
best  tenor  in  Italy ;  if  for  four  years,  you  may  have  the 
world  at  your  feet.” 

Sothern,  the  great  actor,  said  that  the  early  part  of 
his  theatrical  career  was  spent  in  getting  dismissed  for 
incompetency. 

“The  only  merit  to  which  I  lay  claim,”  said  Hugh 
Miller,  “  is  that  of  patient  research  —  a  merit  in  which 
whoever  wills  may  rival  or  surpass  me ;  and  this  hum- 
ole  faculty  of  patience  when  rightly  developed  may 
lead  to  more  extraordinary  development  of  ideas  than 
even  genius  itself.” 

“  Never  depend  upon  your  genius,”  said  John  Bus¬ 
kin,  in  the  words  of  Joshua  Beynoldsj  “if  you  have 


344 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


talent,  industry  will  improve  it;  if  you  have  none,  in¬ 
dustry  will  supply  the  deficiency.” 

Patience  is  the  guardian  of  faith,  the  preserver  of 
peace,  the  cherisher  of  love,  the  teacher  of  humility. 
Patience  governs  the  flesh,  strengthens  the  spirit 
sweetens  the  temper,  stifles  anger,  extinguishes  envy, 
subdues  pride ;  she  bridles  the  tongue,  restrains  the 
hand,  tramples  upon  temptations,  endures  persecutions, 
Patience  is  the  courage  of  virtue,  enabling  us  to  lessen 
pain  of  mind  or  body ;  it  does  not  so  much  add  to  the 
number  of  our  joys  as  it  tends  to  diminish  the  number 
of  our  sufferings.  Labor  is  still,  and  ever  will  be,  the 
inevitable  price  set  upon  everything  which  is  valuable. 

Savages  believe  that,  when  they  conquer  an  enemy, 
his  spirit  enters  into  them,  and  fights  for  them  ever 
afterwards.  So  the  spirit  of  our  conquests  enters  us, 
and  helps  us  to  win  the  next  victory. 

Bliicher  may  have  been  routed  at  Ligny  yesterday, 
but  to-day  you  hear  the  thunder  of  his  guns  at  Waterloo 
hurling  dismay  and  death  among  his  former  conquer¬ 
ors. 

Opposing  circumstances  create  strength.  Opposition 
gives  us  greater  power  of  resistance.  To  overcome  one 
barrier  gives  us  greater  ability  to  overcome  the  next. 

Who  will  not  befriend  the  persevering,  energetic 
youth,  the  fearless  man  of  industry  ? 

Be  sure  that  your  trade,  your  profession,  your  call¬ 
ing  in  life  is  a  good  one — one  that  God  and  goodness 
sanction ;  then  be  true  as  steel  to  it.  Think  for  it, 
plan  for  it,  work  for  it,  live  for  it ;  throw  your  mind, 
might,  strength,  heart,  and  soul  into  your  actions  for  it, 
and  success  will  crown  you  her  favored  child.  No  mat¬ 
ter  whether  your  object  be  great  or  small,  whether  it 
be  the  planting  of  a  nation  or  a  batch  of  potatoes,  the 
same  perseverance  is  necessary.  Everybody  admires 
an  iron  determination,  and  comes  to  the  aid  of  him  who 
directs  it  for  good. 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  845 


Don’t  damp  fires  and  cool  oft  boilers  while  but  two 
thirds  across  the  Atlantic ;  keep  up  the  heat. 

C.  C.  Coffin  says  that  in  February,  1492,  a  poor,  gray¬ 
haired  man,  his  head  bowed  with  discouragement  almost 
to  the  back  of  his  mule,  rode  slowly  out  through  the 
beautiful  gateway  of  the  Alhambra.  From  boyhood  he 
had  been  haunted  with  the  idea  that  the  earth  is  round. 
He  believed  that  the  piece  of  carved  wood  picked  up 
four  hundred  miles  at  sea,  and  the  bodies  of  two  men 
unlike  any  other  human  beings  known,  found  on  the 
shores  of  Portugal,  had  drifted  from  unknown  lands  in 
the  west.  But  his  last  hope  of  obtaining  aid  for  a  voy¬ 
age  of  discovery  had  failed.  King  John  of  Portugal, 
while  pretending  to  think  of  helping  him,  had  sent  out 
secretly  an  expedition  of  his  own. 

He  had  begged  bread,  drawn  maps  and  charts  to  keep 
him  from  starving ;  he  had  lost  his  wife ;  his  friends 
had  called  him  crazy,  and  forsaken  him.  The  council 
of  wise  men,  called  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  ridi¬ 
culed  his  theory  of  reaching  the  east  by  sailing  west. 

“  But  the  sun  and  moon  are  round,”  said  Columbus, 
“  why  not  the  earth  ?  ” 

“  If  the  earth  is  a  ball,  what  holds  it  up  ?  ”  asked  the 
wise  men. 

“  What  holds  the  sun  and  moon  up  ?  ”  inquired  Co¬ 
lumbus. 

“  But  how  can  men  walk  with  their  heads  hanging 
down,  and  their  feet  up,  like  flies  on  a  ceiling  ?  ”  asked 
a  learned  doctor ;  “  how  can  trees  grow  with  their  roots 
in  the  air  ?  ” 

“The  water  would  run  out  of  the  ponds  and  we 
should  fall  off,”  said  another  philosopher. 

“  This  doctrine  is  contrary  to  the  Bible,  which  says, 
‘The  heavens  are  stretched  out  like  a  tent:’  —  of 
course  it  is  flat ;  it  is  rank  heresy  to  say  it  is  round,” 
said  a  priest. 

He  left  the  Alhambra  in  despair,  intending  to  offer 


346 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


his  services  to  Charles  VII.,  but  he  heard  a  voice  call* 
ing  his  name.  An  old  friend  had  told  Isabella  that 
it  would  add  great  renown  to  her  reign  at  a  trifling 
expense  if  what  the  sailor  believed  should  prove  true. 
“It  shall  be  done,”  said  Isabella,  “I  will  pledge  my 
jewels  to  raise  the  money.  Call  him  back.” 

Columbus  turned  and  with  him  turned  the  world 
Not  a  sailor  would  go  voluntarily;  so  the  king  and 
queen  compelled  them.  Three  days  out  in  his  vessels 
scarcely  larger  than  fishing-schooners,  the  Pinta  floated 
a  signal  of  distress  for  a  broken  rudder.  Terror  seized 
the  sailors,  but  Columbus  calmed  their  fears  with  pic¬ 
tures  of  gold  and  precious  stones  from  India.  Two 
hundred  miles  west  of  the  Canaries,  the  compass  ceased 
to  point  to  the  North  Star.  The  sailors  are  ready  to 
mutiny,  but  he  tells  them  the  North  Star  is  not  ex¬ 
actly  north.  Twenty-three  hundred  miles  from  home, 
though  he  tells  them  it  is  but  seventeen  hundred,  a 
bush  with  berries  floats  by,  land  birds  fly  near,  and 
they  pick  up  a  piece  of  wood  curiously  carved.  On 
October  12,  Columbus  raised  the  banner  of  Castile  over 
the  western  world. 

What  is  difficulty  for  but  to  teach  us  the  necessity  of 
redoubled  exertion  ?  danger  but  to  give  us  fresh 
courage  ?  impossibilities  but  to  inspire  us  to  the  en¬ 
forcement  of  victory  ?  Longfellow  has  well  illustrated 
this  tenacity  of  purpose  :  — 

“  The  divine  insanity  of  noble  minds, 

That  never  falters  nor  abates, 

But  labors,  and  endures,  and  waits 
Till  all  that  it  foresees  it  finds, 

Or  what  it  cannot  find,  creates.” 

“  How  hard  I  worked  at  that  tremendous  shorthand 
and  all  improvement  appertaining  to  it,”  said  Dickens 
“  I  will  only  add  to  what  I  have  already  written  of  my 
perseverance  at  this  time  of  my  life,  and  of  a  patient 
and  continuous  energy  which  then  began  to  be  matured 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  347 


within  me,  and  which  I  know  to  be  the  strong  point  of 
my  character,  if  it  have  any  strength  at  all,  that  there, 
on  looking  back,  I  find  the  source  of  my  success.” 

Cyrus  W.  Field  had  retired  from  business  with  a  large 
fortune  when  he  became  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
by  means  of  a  cable  laid  upon  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  telegraphic  communication  could  be  established 
between  Europe  and  America.  He  plunged  into  the 
undertaking  with  all  the  force  of  his  being.  The  pre¬ 
liminary  work  included  the  construction  of  a  telegraph 
line  one  thousand  miles  long,  from  New  York  to  St. 
John’s,  Newfoundland.  Through  four  hundred  miles  of 
almost  unbroken  forest  they  had  to  build  a  road  as  well 
as  a  telegraph  line  across  Newfoundland.  Another 
stretch  of  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  across  the  island 
of  Cape  Breton  involved  a  great  deal  of  labor,  as  did  the 
laying  of  a  cable  across  the  St.  Lawrence. 

By  hard  work  he  secured  aid  for  his  company  from 
the  British  government,  but  in  Congress  he  encountered 
such  bitter  opposition  from  a  powerful  lobby  that  his 
measure  only  had  a  majority  of  one  in  the  Senate.  The 
cable  was  loaded  upon  the  Agamemnon,  the  flagship  of 
the  British  fleet  at  Sebastopol,  and  upon  the  Niagara,  a 
magnificent  new  frigate  of  the  United  States  Navy; 
but,  when  five  miles  of  cable  had  been  paid  out,  it 
caught  in  the  machinery  and  parted.  On  the  second 
trial,  when  two  hundred  miles  at  sea,  the  electric 
current  was  suddenly  lost,  and  men  paced  the  decks 
nervously  and  sadly,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  death. 
Just  as  Mr.  Field  was  about  to  give  the  order  to  cut  the 
cable,  the  current  returned  as  quickly  and  mysteriously 
as  it  had  disappeared.  The  following  night,  when  the 
ship  was  moving  but  four  miles  an  hour  and  the  cable 
running  out  at  the  rate  of  six  miles,  the  brakes  were 
applied  too  suddenly  just  as  the  steamer  gave  a  heavy 
iurch,  breaking  the  cable. 

Field  was  not  the  man  to  give  up.  Seven  hundred 


848 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT . 


miles  more  of  cable  were  ordered,  and  a  man  of  great 
skill  was  set  to  work  to  devise  a  better  machine  for 
paying  out  the  long  line.  American  and  British  inven¬ 
tors  united  in  making  a  machine.  At  length  in  mid¬ 
ocean  the  two  halves  of  the  cable  were  spliced  and  the 
steamers  began  to  separate,  the  one  headed  for  Ireland, 
the  other  for  Newfoundland,  each  running  out  the  pre¬ 
cious  thread,  which,  it  was  hoped,  would  bind  two  con¬ 
tinents  together.  Before  the  vessels  were  three  miles 
apart,  the  cable  parted.  Again  it  was  spliced,  but  when 
the  ships  were  eighty  miles  apart,  the  current  was  lost. 
A  third  time  the  cable  was  spliced  and  about  two  hun¬ 
dred  miles  paid  out,  when  it  parted  some  twenty  feet 
from  the  Agamemnon,  and  the  vessels  returned  to  the 
coast  of  Ireland. 

Directors  were  disheartened,  the  public  skeptical, 
capitalists  were  shy,  and  but  for  the  indomitable  energy 
and  persuasiveness  of  Mr.  Field,  who  worked  day  and 
night  almost  without  food  or  sleep,  the  whole  project 
would  have  been  abandoned.  Finally  a  third  attempt 
was  made,  with  such  success  that  the  whole  cable  was 
laid  without  a  break,  and  several  messages  were  flashed 
through  nearly  seven  hundred  leagues  of  ocean,  when 
suddenly  the  current  ceased. 

Faith  now  seemed  dead  except  in  the  breast  of  Cyrus 
W.  Field,  and  one  or  two  friends,  yet  with  such  persist¬ 
ence  did  they  work  that  they  persuaded  men  to  furnish 
capital  for  another  trial  even  against  what  seemed  their 
better  judgment.  A  new  and  superior  cable  was  loaded 
upon  the  Great  Eastern,  which  steamed  slowly  out  to 
sea,  paying  out  as  she  advanced.  Everything  worked 
to  a  charm  until  within  six  hundred  miles  of  Newfound¬ 
land,  when  the  cable  snapped  and  sank.  After  several 
fruitless  attempts  to  raise  it,  the  enterprise  was  aban¬ 
doned  for  a  year. 

Not  discouraged  by  all  these  difficulties,  Mr.  Field 
went  to  work  with  a  will,  organized  a  new  company, 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  349 

and  made  a  new  cable  far  superior  to  anything  before 
used,  and  on  July  13,  1866,  was  begun  the  trial  which, 
ended  with  the  following  message  sent  tc  New  York  : _ - 

“  Heart’s  Content,  July  27. 

“We  arrived  here  at  nine  o’clock  this  morning.  All 
well.  Thank  God !  the  cable  is  laid  and  is  in  perfect 
working  order.  Cyrus  W.  Field.” 

The  old  cable  was  picked  up,  spliced,  and  continued 
to  Newfoundland,  and  the  two  are  still  working,  with 
good  prospects  for  usefulness  for  many  years. 

In  .Revelation  we  read :  “  He  that  overcometh,  I  will 
give  him  to  sit  down  with  me  on  my  throne.” 

Successful  men,  it  is  said,  owe  more  to  their  perse* 
verance  than  to  their  natural  powers,  their  friends,  or 
the  favorable  circumstances  around  them.  Genius  will 
falter  by  the  side  of  labor,  great  powers  will  yield  to 
great  industry.  Talent  is  desirable,  but  perseverance  is 
more  so. 

“  How  long  did  it  take  you  to  learn  to  play  ?  ”  asked 
a  young  man  of  Geradini.  “Twelve  hours  a  day  for 
twenty  years,”  replied  the  great  violinist.  Lyman 
Beecher’s  father,  when  asked  how  long  it  took  him  to 
write  his  celebrated  sermon  on  the  “Government  of 
God,”  replied,  “  About  forty  years.” 

A  Chinese  student,  discouraged  by  repeated  failures, 
had  thrown  away  his  book  in  despair,  when  he  saw 
a  poor  woman  rubbing  an  iron  bar  on  a  stone  to  make  a 
needle.  This  example  of  patience  sent  him  back  to  his 
studies  with  a  new  determination,  and  he  became  one' of 
the  three  greatest  scholars  of  China. 

“ Generally  speaking,”  said  Sydney  Smith,  “the  life 
of  all  truly  great  men  has  been  a  life  of  intense  and  in¬ 
cessant  labor.  They  have  commonly  passed  the  first 
half  of  life  in  the  gross  darkness  of  indigent  humility, 
—  overlooked,  mistaken,  condemned  by  weaker  men, — 
thinking  while  others  slept,  reading  while  others  rioted. 


350 


PUSHING  TO  Th  ';  FRONT. 


feeling  something  within  them  that  told  them  they 
should  not  always  be  kept  down  among  the  dregs  of  the 
world.  And  then,  when  their  time  has  come,  and  some 
little  accident  has  given  them  their  first  occasion,  they 
have  burst  out  into  the  light  and  glory  of  public  life, 
rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,  and  mighty  in  all  the  labors 
and  struggles  of  the  mind.” 

Malibran  said  :  “  If  I  neglect  my  practice  a  day,  I  see 
the  difference  in  my  execution;  if  for  two  days,  my 
friends  see  it ;  and  if  for  a  week,  all  the  world  knows 
my  failure.”  Constant,  persistent  struggle  she  found 
to  be  the  price  of  her  marvelous  power. 

When  an  East  India  boy  is  learning  archery,  he  is 
compelled  to  practice  three  months  drawing  the  string 
to  his  ear  before  he  is  allowed  to  touch  an  arrow. 

“  If  I  am  building  a  mountain,”  said  Confucius,  “  and 
stop  before  the  last  basketful  of  earth  is  placed  on  the  * 
summit,  I  have  failed.” 

Lady  Franklin  labored  incessantly  for  twelve  long 
years  to  rescue  her  husband  from  the  polar  seas. 
Nothing  could  daunt  her  or  induce  her  to  abandon  the 
hopeless  search  until  she  had  proven  that  he  died  after 
traversing  before  unknown  seas  seeking  a  northwest 
passage. 

Benjamin  Franklin  had  this  tenacity  of  purpose  in  a 
wonderful  degree.  When  he  started  in  the  printing 
business  in  Philadelphia,  he  carried  his  material 
through  the  streets  on  a  wheelbarrow.  He  hired  one 
room  for  his  office,  work-room,  and  sleeping-room.  He 
found  a  formidable  rival  in  the  city  and  invited  him  to 
his  room.  Pointing  to  a  piece  of  bread  from  which  he 
had  just  eaten  his  dinner,  he  said:  “Unless  you  can 
live  cheaper  than  I  can  you  cannot  starve  me  out.” 

All  are  familiar  with  the  misfortune  of  Carljde  while 
writing  his  “  History  of  the  French  Revolution.”  After 
the  first  volume  was  ready  for  the  press,  he  loaned  the 
manuscript  to  a  neighbor  who  left  it  lying  on  the  floor, 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE. 


351 


and  the  servant  girl  took  it  to  kindle  the  fire.  It  was 
a  bitter  disappointment,  but  Carlyle  was  not  the  man  to 
give  up.  After  many  months  of  poring  over  hundreds 
of  volumes  of  authorities  and  scores  of  manuscripts,  he 
reproduced  that  which  had  burned  in  a  few  minutes. 

Audubon,  the  naturalist,  had  spent  two  years  with  his 
gun  and  note-book  in  the  forests  of  America,  making 
drawings  of  birds.  He  nailed  them  all  up  securely  in 
a  box  and  went  off  on  a  vacation.  When  he  returned  he 
opened  the  box  only  to  find  a  nest  of  Norwegian  rats 
in  his  beautiful  drawings.  Every  one  was  ruined.  It 
was  a  terrible  disappointment,  but  Audubon  took  his 
gun  and  note-book  and  started  for  the  forest.  He  repro¬ 
duced  his  drawings  even  better  than  those  he  had  before. 

Robert  Ainsworth  worked  many  years  on  a  Latin  dic¬ 
tionary.  His  wife  became  angry  because  he  robbed  her 
.  of  his  time,  and  burned  all  his  manuscript.  He  rewrote 
it,  but  never  forgave  his  wife. 

A  merchant  went  to  a  sculptor  and  wanted  to  hire 
him  by  the  day  to  carve  a  statue.  “  Wretch,”  was  the 
reply,  “  I  have  been  twenty -five  years  learning  how  to 
make  that  statue  in  twenty-five  days.” 

When  Dickens  was  asked  to  read  one  of  his  selec¬ 
tions  in  public  he  replied  that  he  had  not  time,  for  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  same  piece  every  da}' 
for  six  months  before  reading  it  in  public.  “  My  own 
invention,”  he  says,  “  such  as  it  is,  I  assure  you,  would 
never  have  served  me  as  it  has  but  for  the  habit  of 
commonplace,  humble,  patient,  toiling  attention.” 

Addison  amassed  three  volumes  of  manuscript  before 
he  began  the  “  Spectator.” 

Every  one  admires  a  determined,  persistent  man. 
Marcus  Morton  ran  sixteen  times  for  governor  of  Mas¬ 
sachusetts.  At  last  his  opponents  voted  for  him  from 
admiration  of  his  pluck,  and  he  was  elected  by  one  ma¬ 
jority.  Lord  Eldon  copied  the  whole  of  Coke  upon 
Littleton  twice  over  because  too  poor  to  buy  books- 


352 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


Gibbon  wrote  bis  memoirs  over  nine  times.  Such  per* 
sistence  always  triumphs. 

A  teacher  was  drilling  some  boys  on  the  hard  verses 
in  the  third  chapter  of  Daniel.  When  they  read  the 
■  chapter  the  third  time  an  easily  discouraged  scholar 
came  to  the  names  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego, 
stopped  short,  and  in  a  most  discouraged  voice  said, 

“  Teacher,  there ’s  them  three  fellers  again.” 

We  all  know  plenty  of  men  who  seem  to  get  along 
pretty  well  until  they  come  to  “them  three  fellers 
again,”  when  they  stop  and  will  go  no  further  until  the 
obstruction  is  removed. 

Webster  declared  to  the  teachers  at  Phillips  Acad¬ 
emy  that  he 'never  could  declaim  before  the  school. 
He  said  he  committed  piece  after  piece  and  rehearsed 
them  in  his  room,  but  when  he  heard  his  name  called 
in  the  academy  and  all  eyes  turned  towards  him  the  . 
room  became  dark  and  everything  he  ever  knew  fled 
from  his  brain ;  but  Webster  became  the  great  orator 
of  America.  Indeed,  it  is  doubtful  whether  Demos¬ 
thenes  himself  surpassed  Webster’s  great  reply  to 
Hayne  in  the*  United  States  Senate.  Webster’s  tena¬ 
city  was  illustrated  by  a  circumstance  which  occurred  in 
the  academy.  The  principal  punished  him  for  shooting 
pigeons  by  compelling  him  to  commit  one  hundred  lines 
of  Vergil.  He  knew  the  principal  was  to  take  a  certain 
train  that  afternoon,  so  he  went  to  his  room  and 
committed  seven  hundred  lines.  He  went  to  recite 
them  to  the  principal  just  before  train  time.  After  re¬ 
peating  the  hundred  lines  he  kept  right  on  until  he  had 
recited  two  hundred.  The  principal  kept  looking  at 
his  watch  and  grew  nervous,  but  Webster  kept  right 
on.  The  principal  finally  stopped  him  and  asked  him 
how  many  more  he  had  learned.  “  About  five  hundred 
more, ’’  said  Webster,  and  kept  on. 

“You  can  have  the  rest  of  the  day  for  pigeon-shoot* 
ing,”  said  the  principal. 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  353 

Great  writers  have  ever  been  noted  for  their  tenacity 
of  purpose.  Their  works  have  not  been  flung  off  from 
minds  aglow  with  genius,  but  have  been  elaborated 
and  elaborated  into  grace  and  beauty,  until  every  trace 
of  their  efforts  has  been  obliterated.  Bishop  Butler 
worked  twenty  years  incessantly  on  his  “  Analogy,”  and 
even  then  was  so  dissatisfied  that  he  wanted  to  burn  it 
Rousseau  says  he  obtained  the  ease  and  grace  of  his 
style  only  by  ceaseless  inquietude,  by  endless  blotches 
and  erasures.  Vergil  worked  eleven  years  on  the  JEneid. 
The  note-books  of  great  men  like  Hawthorne  and  Em¬ 
erson  are  tell-tales  of  the  enormous  drudgery,  of  the 
years  put  into  a  book  which  may  be  read  in  an  hour. 
Montesquieu  was  twenty-five  years  writing  his  “  Esprit 
de  Louis,”  yet  you  can  read  it  in  sixty  minutes.  Adam 
Smith  spent  ten  years  on  his  “  Wealth  of  Nations.”  A 
rival  playwright  once  laughed  at  Euripides  for  spend¬ 
ing  three  days  on  three  lines,  when  he  had  written  five 
hundred  lines.  “  But  your  five  hundred  lines  in  three 
days  will  be  dead  and  forgotten,  while  my  three  lines 
will  live  forever,”  he  replied. 

Ariosto  wrote  his  “Description  of  a  Tempest”  sixteen 
different  ways.  He  spent  ten  years  on  his  “Orlando 
Furioso,”  and  only  sold  one  hundred  copies  at  fifteen 
pence  each.  The  proof  of  Burke’s  “  Letters  to  a  Noble 
Lord”  (one  of  the  sublimest  things  in  all  literature) 
went  back  to  the  publisher  so  changed  and  blotted  with 
corrections  that  the  printer  absolutely  refused  to  cor¬ 
rect  it,  and  it  was  entirely  reset.  Adam  Tucker  spent 
eighteen  years  on  the  “  Light  of  Nature.”  A  great 
naturalist  spent  eight  years  on  the  “  Anatomy  of  the 
Day  Fly.”  Thoreau’s  New  England  pastoral,  “  A  Week 
cn  the  Concord  and  Merrimac  Rivers,”  was  an  entire 
failure.  Seven  hundred  of  the  one  thousand  copies 
printed  were  returned  from  the  publishers.  Thoreau 
wrote  in  his  diary :  “  I  have  some  nine  hundred  vol¬ 
umes  in  my  library,  seven  hundred  of  which  I  wrote 


354 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


myself.”  Yet  lie  says  lie  took  up  liis  pen  with  as  much 
determination  as  ever. 

The  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss.  The  persistent 
tortoise  outruns  the  swift  but  fickle  hare.  An  hour  a 
day  for  twelve  years  more  than  equals  the  time  given  to 
study  in  a  four  years’  course  at  a  high  school.  The 
reading  and  re-reading  of  a  single  volume  has  been  the 
making  of  many  a  man.  “  Patience,”  says  Bulwer,  “  is 
the  courage  of  the  conqueror  ;  it  is  the  virtue  par  excel 
lence ,  of  Man  against  Destiny  —  of  the  One  against  the 
World,  and  of  the  Soul  against  Matter.  Therefore,  this 
is  the  courage  of  the  Gospel ;  and  its  importance  in  a 
social  view  —  its  importance  to  races  and  institutions  — 
cannot  be  too  earnestly  inculcated.” 

Want  of  constancy  is  the  cause  of  many  a  failure, 
making  the  millionaire  of  to-day  a  beggar  to-morrow. 
Show  me  a  really  great  triumph  that  is  not  the  reward 
of  persistence.  One  of  the  paintings  which  made  Titian 
famous  was  on  his  easel  eight  years ;  another,  seven. 
How  came  popular  writers  famous  ?  By  writing  for 
years  without  any  pay  at  all ;  by  writing  hundreds  of 
pages  as  mere  practice-work  ;  by  working  like  galley- 
slaves  at  literature  for  half  a  lifetime  with  no  other 
compensation  than  —  fame.  “Never  despair,”  says 
Burke  ;  “  but  if  you  do,  work  on  in  despair.”  “  He  who 
has  put  forth  his  total  strength  in  fit  actions,”  says 
Emerson,  “  has  the  richest  return  of  wisdom.” 

“  There  is  also  another  class,”  says  a  moralist, 
“  chiefly  among  the  fair  sex,  who  are  incapable  of  mak¬ 
ing  up  their  minds,  even  with  the  help  of  others  ;  who 
change  and  change  and  repent  again,  and  return  to  their 
first  resolution,  and  then  regret  that  they  have  done  so 
vvlien  too  late.  They  hesitate  between  a  walk  and  a 
irive,  between  going  in  one  direction  or  another,  and 
fifty  other  things  equally  immaterial ;  and  always  end 
the  matter  by  doing  what  they  fancy,  at  any  rate,  is 
the  least  agreeable  and  eligible  of  the  two.  Of  course 


THE  REWARD  OF  PERSISTENCE.  355 

this  disposition,  shown  in  these  trifles,  will  be  shown 
in  more  important  matters  ;  and  a  most  distressing  and 
unfortunate  disposition  it  is,  both  for  themselves  and 
those  around  them.  How,  the  only  remedy  for  such  a 
turn  of  mind  is  resolutely  to  keep  to  the  first  decision, 
whatever  it  may  be,  without  dwelling  on  its  advantages 
or  disadvantages,  and  allowing  any  useless  regrets  after 
the  thing  is  done  ;  and  even  if  a  mistake  is  often  made 
at  the  outset,  from  want  of  the  habit  of  ready  and  un¬ 
wavering  judgment,  it  will  be  far  less  mischievous  than 
weak  and  wretched  indecision.” 

Success  is  not  measured  by  what  a  man  accomplishes, 
but  by  the  opposition  he  has  encountered,  and  the  cour¬ 
age  with  which  he  has  maintained  the  struggle  against 
overwhelming  odds,  as  Alexander  learned  by  defeat  the 
art  of  war. 

The  head  of  the  god  Hercules  is  represented  as  cov¬ 
ered  with  a  lion’s  skin  with  claws  joined  under  the  chin, 
to  show  that  when  we  have  conquered  our  misfortunes, 
they  become  our  helpers.  Oh,  the  glory  of  an  uncom 
querable  will ! 

Yet  nerve  thy  spirit  to  the  proof, 

And  blench  not  at  thy  chosen  lot ; 

The  timid  good  may  stand  aloof, 

The  sage  may  frown,  —  yet  faint  thou  not : 

Nor  heed  the  shaft  too  surely  cast, 

The  foul  and  hissing  bolt  of  scorn  ; 

For  with  thy  side  shall  dwell  at  last, 

The  victory  of  endurance  born. 

Bkyani 

The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept 
Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight, 

But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night. 

We  have  not  wings,  we  cannot  soar  ; 

But  we  have  feet  to  scale  and  climb, 

By  slow  degrees,  bv  more  and  more, 

The  cloudy  summit  of  our  time. 


Longkeelow 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


A  LONG  LIFE,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT. 

Not  in  the  world  of  light  alone, 

Where  God  has  built  His  blazing  throne. 

Nor  yet  alone  on  earth  below, 

With  belted  seas  that  come  and  go, 

And  endless  isles  of  sunlit  green, 

Is  all  the  Maker’s  glory  seen  — 

Look  in  upon  thy  wondrous  frame, 

Eternal  wisdom  still  the  same.  Holmbs. 

Pile  luxury  as  high  as  you  will,  health  is  better. — Julia  Ward  Howe. 

O  blessed  health  !  thou  art  above  all  gold  and  treasure ;  ’t  is  thou  who 
enlargest  the  soul,  and  openest  all  its  powers  to  receive  instruction  and  to 
relish  virtue.  He  that  has  thee  has  little  more  to  wish  for  ;  and  he  that  is 
so  wretched  as  to  want  thee,  wants  everything  without  thee.  — Sterne. 

No  chronic  tortures  racked  his  aged  limb, 

For  luxury  and  slotb  had  nourished  none  for  him. 

Bryant,  The  Old  Man’s  Funeral. 

“Health  and  cheerfulness  make  beauty.” 

The  nearer  men  live  to  each  other,  the  shorter  their  lives  are.  —  Dr.  Parr. 

Some  men  dig  their  graves  with  their  teeth.  —  Sydney  Smith. 

“  Nor  love,  nor  honor,  wealth,  nor  power, 

Can  give  the  heart  a  cheerful  hour 
When  health  is  lost.” 

The  stomach  begs  and  clamors,  and  listens  to  no  precepts.  And  yet  it  Is 
not  an  obdurate  creditor  ;  for  it  is  dismissed  with  small  payment  if  3rou 
only  give  it  what  you  owe,  and  not  as  much  as  you  can.  — Seneca. 

Shut  the  door  to  the  sun  and  you  will  open  it  to  the  doctor. 

Italian  Proverb 

Joy,  temperance,  and  repose, 

Slam  the  door  on  the  Doctor’s  nose.  Longfrilow, 

’Tis  the  sublime  of  man, 

Our  noontide  majesty,  —  to  know  ourselves, 

Part  and  proportion  of  a  wondrous  whole.  Coleridge. 

The  greatest  artist  the  world  has  known  painted  a 
picture,  the  most  beautiful  ever  seen.  Day  by  day,  foi 


A  LONG  LIFE ,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  357 

years,  he  wrought  upon  this  masterpiece,  developing  it 
from  a  mere  sketch  until  it  became  a  picture  which  all 
who  saw  delighted  to  look  upon.  But  notwithstanding 
his  wonderful  power,  the  artist  could  never  attain  in 
this  work  the  perfection  sought.  His  colors  seemed  to 
change  in  the  night.  The  rosy  flush  imparted  to  cheek 
and  lip  were  lost  as  often  as  they  were  renewed.  The 
flashing  eyes 'grew  dull  and  leaden,  and  seemed  to  sink 
into  the  canvas.  The  beautiful  flesh  lost  its  rose-leaf 
tint,  and  became  sallow  and  unnatural.  The  painter’s 
art  was  baffled,  and  he  knew  not  why. 

Yet  his  hand  had  not  lost  its  cunning,  his  colors  were 
not  impure,  his  conception  was  not  at  fault.  His  work 
was  well  done,  but  it  was  spoiled  in  the  night  by  an 
enemy,  a  rival  painter  whom  none  praised  and  whose 
work  no  one  admired.  Jealous  of  the  fame  his  rival 
had  won  by  joyous,  glorious  pictures,  while  his  own 
sombre  works  were  shunned,  he  crept  by  night  to  the 
studio  of  the  other,  and  with  palette  spread  with  shadow 
tints,  wrought  ruin  with  the  work  he  could  not  imitate. 
Thus  the  painting  which  should  have  excelled  all  others 
never  attained  perfection,  and  was  ruined  at  last 
beyond  all  hope  of  restoration. 

Again  and  again  the  two  painters  have  repeated  their 
efforts  upon  other  canvas,  with  similar  results,  as  a 
rule.  Their  names  are  Health  and  Disease,  and  they 
paint  upon  human  canvas.  The  first  rises  and  retires 
early,  and  works  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open 
air,  in  the  blessed  sunlight,  where  keen  winds  blow 
in  winter  and  zephyrs  in  spring  and  summer,  where 
golden  harvests  wave  and  fruit-laden  trees  sway  in  the 
autumn  breezes,  where  fountains  murmur  and  rivulets 
sing,  where  men  work  and  romping  children  play,  where 
cattle  are  afield,  and  birds  and  bees  on  the  wing.  The 
other  sleeps  through  the  early  hours,  but  comes  forth 
when  Nature  is  asleep ;  and  under  the  flickering  street 
lights  or  the  light  of  the  silent  stars,  or  in  dark  nooks 


858 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


and  corners  sometimes  by  day,  liis  withering  touch  falls 
upon  the  fairest  work  of  his  rival,  injuring  it  all  and 
utterly  ruining  much  of  it.  Only  a  very  few  paintings 
are  kept  almost  wholly  out  of  the  reach  of  Disease,  yet 
how  wonderful  are  they  in  their  comparative  perfection ! 

A  vase  of  exquisite  beauty,  found  in  a  marble  sar¬ 
cophagus  near  Kome  during  the  sixteenth  century,  was 
bought  by  the  Duchess  of  Portland  for  fen  thousand 
dollars  and  loaned  to  the  British  Museum.  The  visitor 
is  powerfully  impressed  with  its  matchless  symmetry ; 
but,  on  examining  it  closely,  he  sees  that  the  surface  is 
seamed  with  cracks,  and  that  in  some  places  holes  have 
been  closed  by  a  kind  of  cement.  He  is  told  that  a 
madman  once  struck  this  beautiful  vase  with  his  cane, 
and  broke  it  into  a  hundred  pieces.  The  fragments 
were  put  together  again  at  great  cost  and  trouble ;  yet 
the  vase  is  practically  a  wreck. 

The  world  is  full  of  men  and  women  like  this  vase  — 
marred,  scarred,  broken,  patched,  mere  shadows  of  their 
former  selves.  They  look  fairly  well,  but  their  consti¬ 
tutions  have  been  broken  by  dissipation,  by  exposure, 
by  overwork,  by  ignorance,  by  violation  in  some  way 
of  the  laws  of  nature.  Many  of  them  have  patched 
the  pieces  together  by  drugs,  physicians,  climate,  or 
travel ;  but,  like*the  vase,  they  can  withstand  no  strain. 
Mocked  by  an  ambition  for  success,  but  with  ho  strength 
to  attain  it,  they  drag  out  a  miserable  existence. 

“  I  am  certain,”  says  Horace  Mann,  “  I  could  have 
performed  twice  the  labor,  both  better  and  with  greater 
ease  to  myself,  had  I  known  as  much  of  the  laws  of 
health  and  life  at  twenty-one  as  I  do  now.  In  college 
I  was  taught  all  about  the  motions  of  the  planets,  as 
carefully  as  though  they  would  have  been  in  danger  ot 
getting  off  the  track  if  I  had  not  known  how  to  trace 
their  orbits ;  but  about  my  own  organization,  and  the 
conditions  indispensable  to  the  healthful  functions  of 
my  own  body,  I  was  left  in  profound  ignorance.  No 


A  LONG  LIFE ,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  359 

thing  could  be  more  preposterous.  I  ought  to  have 
begun  at  home,  and  taken  the  stars  when  it  should  have 
become  their  turn.  The  consequence  was,  I  broke 
down  at  the  beginning  of  my  second  college  year,  and 
have  never  had  a  well  day  since.  Whatever  labor  I 
have  since  been  able  to  do,  I  have  done  it  all  on  credit 
instead  of  capital  —  a  most  ruinous  way,  either  in  re> 
gard  to  health  or  money.  For  the  last  twenty-five 
years,  so  far  as  it  regards  health,  I  have  been  put,  from 
day  to  day,  upon  my  good  behavior ;  and  during  the 
whole  of  this  period,  as  an  Hibernian  would  say,  if  I 
had  lived  as  other  folks  do  for  a  month,  I  should  have 
died  in  a  fortnight.” 

The  age  of  sawdust  puddings  and  plank  beds  is  past. 
Pascal’s  doctrine  that  disease  is  the  natural  condition 
of  Christians,  and  that  the  body  is  the  natural  enemy  of 
the  soul,  is  exploded.  Muscular  Christianity  is  the  de¬ 
mand  of  the  hour.  The  body  is  no  longer  looked  upon 
as  the  devil  chained  to  the  soul,  to  be  mortified  and 
starved  to  keep  the  passions  down.  Pale,  emaciated, 
spiritual  shadows  are  no  longer  in  demand  in  the  pul¬ 
pit.  A  diet  of  bread  and  water  is  no  longer  regarded 
as  conducive  to  real  piety.  Tallness  is  no  longer  the 
only  sign  of  virtue,  nor  do  width  and  weight  any  longer 
indicate  a  tendency  to  crime ;  nor  is  muscle  associated 
with  rowdyism.  The  hero  of  the  ancients  had  the 
strength  of  ten  men,  and  his  servant  could  eat  granite 
rock.  The  Cid  had  such  power  of  resistance  that  he 
could  sleep  with  a  leper  and  not  contract  the  disease. 
The  Romans  despised  physical  weakness  and  deformity. 
The  great  and  wise  Cato  conceived  the  plan  of  banish 
ing  all  the  decrepit,  deaf,  and  helpless  to  the  island  of 
Esculapius  in  the  Tiber,  where  they  perished  of  hunger 
and  exposure.  This  was  the  reward  of  a  slave  for 
a  life  of  menial  servitude.  The  Greeks  also  banished 
their  weak  and  deformed  when  they  could  no  longer 
3erve  the  state.  A  magnificent  physique  was  the  great 


360 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


object  of  their  games,  contests,  and  festivities.  They  dei 
tied  health  in  the  young  and  beautiful  goddess  Hygeia. 
Compare  the  pale,  chestless,  calfless,  attenuated  young 
men  of  to-day  with  the  stalwart  youths  of  Greece  and 
Home.  What  -a  magnificent  physical  perfection  distin¬ 
guishes  the  North  American  Indians.  When  the 
painter  West  was  taken  by  prominent  Italians  to  see 
the  treasures  of  the  Vatican,  he  was  first  shown  the 
celebrated  statue  of  Apollo.  “  Oh !  ”  he  exclaimed,  “  a 
Mohawk  Indian !  ”  They  are  born  with  good  phy¬ 
siques,  and  their  training  all  tends  in  the  same  direc¬ 
tion  ;  and  the  average  Indian  boy  of  fifteen  can  with¬ 
stand  more  fatigue  than  athletes  among  the  white  men. 
Smallpox  and  bullets  are  about  the  only  things  that 
can  kill  them.  Compare  these  with  the  thousands  of 
haggard  students  in  our  American  colleges,  muscle- 
starved,  book-crammed,  and  “  sicklied  o’er  with  the 
pale  cast  of  thought.”  What  a  sad  commentary  it  is 
upon  the  institutions  whose  avowed  object  is  to  help 
young  men  in  making  their  way  in  a  hard,  practical 
world,  that  so  many  break  down  utterly  and  are  com¬ 
pelled  to  spend  the  rest  of  their  lives  hunting  for 
health.  The  first  requisite  to  success  is  to  be  a  first- 
class  animal.  The  brain  gets  a  great  deal  of  credit 
that  belongs  to  the  stomach. 

With  rare  exceptions,  the  great  prizes  of  life  fall  to 
those  of  stalwart,  robust  physique.  If  you  have  a 
bodily  weakness,  such  as  lack  of  vigor  or  physical 
stamina,  the  effect  will  show  itself  in  everything  you 
do,  and  cripple  your  whole  life  work.  Every  one  who 
knows  you  reads  your  weakness  and  lack  of  tone  ii. 
your  unsteady  eye  and  hesitating  step.  It  appears 
in  every  letter  you  write,  in  every  speech  you  make,  in 
everything  you  do  ;  you  cannot  disguise  it,  and  you  will 
fall  as  far  below  success  as  you  fall  below  the  health¬ 
line.  Every  faculty  of  the  mind  sympathizes  with 
ivery  defect  aud  weakness  of  the  body. 


A  LONG  LIFE,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  361 

The  world  is  full  of  half-done,  botched  work,  the  re* 
suit  of  weak  and  sickly  lives.  The  tendency  of  civili¬ 
zation  has  been  to  deteriorate  bodily  stamina.  Cities 
are  the  graves  of  the  physiques  of  our  race.  Long  res¬ 
idence  in  cities  lowers  the  type  of  physical  manhood. 
If  towns  were  not  constantly  recruited  from  the 
country,  the  constitutions  and  intellects  of  their  inhabi¬ 
tants  would  rapidly  decline  in  vigor.  Most  of  the  stal¬ 
wart  men  of  our  large  centres  were  born  in  the  country, 
but  each  succeeding  generation  of  their  descendants 
becomes  weaker. 

How  quickly  we  Americans  exhaust  life.  With  what 
panting  haste  we  pursue  everything.  Every  American 
you  meet  seems  to  be  late  for  a  train.  Hurry  is 
stamped  in  the  wrinkles  of  the  American  face.  We 
pride  ourselves  upon  being  practical  men,  men  who 
strike  sledge-hammer  blows  in  our  business,  men  who 
make  business  of  recreation,  even.  We  are  men  of 
action,  we  die  without  it ;  nay,  we  go  faster  and  faster 
as  the  years  go  by,  speed  our  machinery  to  the  utmost, 
stretch  the  silver  cord  ci  life  until  it  snaps.  We  have 
not  even  leisure  to  die  a  natural  death,  we  go  at  high 
pressure  until  the  boiler  bursts.  We  have  actually 
changed  the  type  of  our  diseases,  to  suit  our  changed 
constitution.  Instead  of  the  lingering  maladies  of  our 
fathers,  we  drop  down  and  die  of  heart  disease  or 
apoplexy,  now  so  common,  formerly  so  rare.  Even 
death  has  adopted  our  terrible  gait. 

Nature  is  a  great  economist.  She  makes  the  most  of 
every  opportunity,  she  works  up  all  odds  and  ends. 
After  you  are  wrecked  and  useless  she  leaves  the  wreck 
upon  the  rocks  or  reef  on  which  you  were  stranded,  and 
hoists  her  signal  of  danger,  as  a  warning  to  others. 

You  lose  your  life,  but  nature  wants  to  use  you  for  a 
warning.  You  lose  your  health,  but  the  tell-tales  are 
left  in  your  face  to  show  the  world  how  it  went.  If  by 
drink,  nature  hangs  out  as  her  sign  a  red  flag  of  di^ 


362 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


tress,  it  may  be,  on  your  nose,  in  front  of  your  eyes, 
where  you  can’t  escape  it,  and  where  everybody  you 
meet  reads  the  terrible  warning.  Though  your  life  is  a 
failure,  and  you  have  become  useless,  nature  can  still 
afford  to  keep  you  as  an  object-lesson  to  warn  your 
fellows. 

Nature  is  no  sentimentalist.  A  bullet  will  not  swerve 
a  hair’s  breadth  from  its  course,  though  a  Lincoln  or  a 
Garfield  stand  in  its  way.  A  drop  of  prussic  acid  will 
kill  a  king  as  quickly  as  his  meanest  vassal.  Water 
will  drown  you,  even  though  you  are  saving  your  own 
child  from  death.  Fire  will  burn  you  to  a  cinder,  even 
while  you  are  trying  to  snatch  your  dear  ones  from  the 
flames.  Every  atom  in  the  universe  has  immutable  law 
stamped  upon  it.  The  rose  blooms  in  your  garden  to¬ 
day  under  the  same  laws  that  unfolded  the  petals  of  the 
first  flower  in  Eden.  In  all  the  sidereal  ages  the  stars 
have  returned  from  their  vast  journeys  through  track¬ 
less  space,  with  the  same  unvarying  accuracy  as  when 
they  began  to  roll  on  the  morning  of  creation.  They 
have  never  once  lost  their  way  in  their  wild  path 
through  space,  nor  varied  a  second  in  a  century.  Not 
one  whit  less  are  we  subject  to  the  immutable  laws  of 
God. 

We  sometimes  hear  a  clergyman  consoling  a  mother, 
distracted  over  the  death  of  her  darling  child,  by  telling 
her  that  a  mysterious  Providence  has  taken  it  from  her 
for  wise  reasons,  and  that  she  must  find  comfort  in  her 
bereavement.  What !  has  God  snatched  from  loving 
parents  a  beautiful  child  just  blooming  into  youth  ? 
Does  the  Creator  of  harmony  produce  discord  ?  Does 
the  Author  of  health  and  beauty  smite  his  noblest 
work  ere  it  is  finished — a  work  into  which  He  has 
breathed  his  own  image,  and  which  He  has  endowed 
with  aspirations  and  possibilities  as  high  as  heaven 
itself  ?  It  is  a  libel  upon  Him  who  fashioned  the 
human  body,  so  wonderfully  and  fearfully  wrought, 


A  LONG  LIFE ,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  363 

that  it  may  withstand  the  ravages  of  time  for  a  cen¬ 
tury.  Away  with  such  sickly  sentimentalism  and 
blasphemy ! 

God  does  not  murder  nor  torture  his  children.  He 
rather  tries  in  a  thousand  ways  to  induce  them  to  keep 
the  laws  of  health,  which,  if  obeyed,  would  carry  them 
into  the  teens  of  their  second  century.  He  has  shielded 
us  on  every  hand  by  kindly  hints.  He  coaxes  us  by 
pleasure,  and  drives  us  by  pain.  He  tries  in  every  way 
to  prolong  life  after  we  have  forfeited  every  right  to  it, 
and  have  become  useless  drones.  The  faithful  heart 
often  beats  the  funeral  march  some  time  after  death, 
and  is  the  last  servant  to  leave  the  body,  lest  some 
spark  of  life  yet  remain,  which  it  might  fan  into  a  liv¬ 
ing  flame.  When  alcohol  goads  on  the  drunkard’s  heart 
faster  and  faster,  and  robs  it  of  a  part  of  its  nine  hours 
of  rest,  which  it  should  have  every  day,  and  which  it 
must  snatch  between  the  beats,  Nature  even  thickens 
its  walls,  in  order  to  enable  it  to  do  the  additional  work 
imposed  upon  it,  which  is  equivalent  to  raising  fifteen 
tons  one  foot  each  day.  It  matters  not  that  the  poor 
wretch  has  forfeited  every  right  to  live,  by  violating 
every  law  of  health;  Nature  helps  him  just  the 
same. 

Our  nerves  are  sentinels  placed  thickest  where  there 
is  the  most  danger.  Pain  has  a  use  and  purpose  beyond 
those  of  happiness  or  pleasure.  It  tends  to  restrict  the 
hurtful  practices  of  life.  Nature  thus  compels  us  to  ' 
recognize  her  established  order,  or  laws.  The  very  sen¬ 
sitiveness  and  delicacy  of  our  nerves,  which  give  exqui¬ 
site  pleasure  when  used  aright,  give  intense  suffering 
when  they  are  abused.  A  cinder  might  ruin  the  eye  if 
the  pain  did  not  compel  its  prompt  removal.  Gazing  at 
the  sun  would  destroy  the  child’s  sight,  were  it  not  for 
the  sensitiveness  of  the  nerves,  which  compels  the  clos¬ 
ing  of  the  lids.  Pain  is  the  great  monitor  of  our  lives, 
ever  reminding  us  of  approaching  danger.  Few  chib 


364 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


dren  would  grow  up  without  being  disfigured  and  muti¬ 
lated,  were  they  not  constantly  warned  by  sensitive 
nerves.  A  paralytic  was  once  advised  by  his  physician 
to  take  a  warm  foot-bath ;  and,  because  of  the  loss  of 
the  sensitiveness  of  the  nerves  in  that  foot,  he  actually 
scalded  his  skin  without  knowing  that  the  water  was 
hot. 

In  the  alleys  and  by-ways  of  our  cities  we  often  see 
the  sign,  “  Dangerous  Passing.”  The  Creator  has  put 
up  such  signs  all  along  the  pathway  of  life.  We  read 
them  over  every  street  and  alley  that  leads  to  vice  and 
degradation.  We  read  over  the  doors  that  lead  to  the 
gambling  dens,  the  saloon,  the  dens  of  infamy,  “All 
hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here.”  Dangerous  Pass¬ 
ing  !  We  read  it  in  the  deformed  and  crippled  lives  of 
those  who  have  disregarded  its  warning,  in  the  botched, 
half -finished  work  of  the  weak  and  inefficient.  We 
read  it  in  the  ruined  lives,  the  lost  opportunities,  the 
blighted  hopes  of  those  who  heed  it  not ;  we  read  it  in 
the  prematurely  old.  All  who  have  violated  Na¬ 
ture’s  laws  carry  about  in  their  bodies  the  unmista¬ 
kable  signs  which  the  world  may  read  as  a  terrible 
warning. 

“  It  is  continued  temperance  which  sustains  the 
body  for  the  longest  period  of  time,  and  which  most 
surely  preserves  it  free  from  sickness,”  writes  Hum¬ 
boldt,  when  asked  the  secret  of  his  success.  No  em¬ 
ployer  will  keep  in  his  office  a  drunkard,  a  gambler, 
or  a  profligate,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  these 
vices  not  only  debase  the  body,  but  also  glut  the  mind 
with  thoughts  of  which  business  has  no  part.  Drink 
has  become  tie  curse  of  the  world.  Whole  battal¬ 
ions  of  splendid  young  men  who  started  in  life  with 
glowing  hopes  have  been  swept  away  by  whiskey  and 
rum. 

The  pen  is  not  made  nor  the  hand  formed  that  has 
the  power  to  adecpately  describe  the  horror  and  the 


A  LONG  LIFE,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  365 

power  of  this  curse.  The  very  instinct  of  self-preserva¬ 
tion  should  keep  a  man  from  a  saloon,  as  it  does  from  a 
pesthouse.  Dr.  Richardson,  a  high  authority,  says  that 
alcohol  is  the  most  insidious  destroyer  of  health,  happi¬ 
ness,  and  life. 

“My  recipe  for  self-preservation  is  exercise,”  said 
David  Dudley  Field.  “I  am  a  very  temperate  man, 
and  have  always  been  so.  I  have  taken  care  of  myself, 
and  as  I  have  a  good  constitution  I  suppose  that  is  the 
reason  I  am  so  well.”  Exercise  is  indeed  a  great  life- 
preserver. 

When  the  pores  of  the  body  are  kept  open  by  regular 
exercise,  the  pores  of  the  imagination  are  apt  to  be 
closed  against  tainted  subjects.  Sana  mens  in  sano  cov- 
pore,  is  a  well-understood  maxim.  Says  Frederick  W. 
Robertson,  England’s  most  spiritual  preacher :  “  It  is 

wonderful  how  views  of  life  depend  upon  exercise  and 
right  management  of  the  physical  constitution.” 

Healthy  thoughts  and  healthy  doctrines  must  come 
from  healthy  minds,  and  healthy  minds  cannot  exist 
apart  from  healthy  bodies. 

The  Sultan  once  consulted  his  physician  in  regard  to 
a  troublesome  malady.  Believing  that  only  fresh  air 
and  exercise  were  needed,  and  knowing  how  little  the 
world  values  plain,  simple  things,  the  doctor  said: 
“Here  is  a  ball  which  I  have  stuffed  with  rare  and 
precious  herbs.  Your  Highness  must  take  this  bat  and 
beat  this  ball  until  you  perspire  freely;  you  must  do 
this  every  day.”  The  Sultan  followed  these  directions, 
and  was  cured  of  his  disease  without  realizing  that  he 
was  only  taking  exercise. 

When  asked  if  he  got  any  exercise,  the  great  French¬ 
man  La  Harpe  replied :  “  When  my  head  gets  fatigued 
I  put  it  out  of  the  window  for  a  while.”  The  Arabs 
say  that  Allah  does  not  count  from  the  allotted  years  of 
our  lives  the  days  spent  in  the  chase.  An  English 
manufacturer  stated  before  a  committee  of  the  House 


366 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


of  Commons  that  he  had  removed  the  means  of  venti- 
lation  from  his  factory,  as  he  noticed  that  the  men  ate 
a  great  deal  more  when  they  breathed  pure  air,  and  he 
could  not  afford  it. 

“Youth  will  never  live  to  age/’  says  Sidney,  “unless 
they  keep  themselves  in  health  with  exercise,  and  in 
heart  with  joyfulness.” 

But  work  conduces  to  longevity  in  a  greater  degree 
than  even  cheerfulness  or  mere  exercise. 

Dr.  Abernethy’s  advice  to  a  lazy  rich  man,  full  of  gout 
and  idle  humors,  unhappy  and  without  appetite,  trou¬ 
bled  with  over-indulgence,  and  pampered  with  soft  beds 
and  rich  food,  was  to  “  live  upon  sixpence  a  day,  and  earn 
it :  ”  a  golden  sentence,  a  Spartan  maxim  which  would 
save  half  the  ill  temper,  the  quarrels,  the  bickerings, 
and  wranglings  of  the  poor  rich  people,  and  would  rub 
the  rust  off  many  a  fine  mind,  which  is  now  ugly  and 
disfigured  from  want  of  use. 

“I  always  find  something  to  keep  me  busy,”  said 
Peter  Cooper,  when  asked  how  he  had  preserved  so  well 
his  strength  of  body  and  mind ;  “  and  to  be  doing  some¬ 
thing  is  the  best  medicine  one  can  take.  I  run  up  and 
down  stairs  here  almost  as  easily  as  I  did  years  ago, 
when  I  never  expected  that  my  term  would  run  into  the 
nineties.” 

Life  is  a  struggle  at  best.  We  scarcely  begin  to  live 
ere  we  commence  to  die.  Life  and  death  strive  in  us 
for  mastery,  and  we  are  but  too  confident  of  how  the 
struggle  will  end.  The  enemies  of  human  life  are  thick 
on  every  side.  A  thousand  diseases  dog  our  footsteps 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  They  lurk  in  the  food 
we  eat,  in  the  water  we  drink,  in  the  air  we  breathe. 
They  watch  at  the  door  of  every  cold,  exposure,  neglect, 
or  imprudence,  seeking  entrance  to  the  citadel  of  life. 

The  plague  has  ever  followed  hard  on  the  heels  of 
famine  and  of  financial  depression.  The  germs  of  dis¬ 
ease  which  have  lurked  in  the  system  for  years,  per 


A  LOttG  LIFE,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  367 

haps,  while  the  body  was  vigorous  and  strong,  suddenly 
spiing  into  activity  the  moment  the  system  is  depressed 
below  the  health-line,  and  its  wonted  power  of  resist¬ 
ance  gone. 

There  is  then  no  overplus  of  vitality  to  resist  their 
development.  Kernels  of  wheat  which  had  been  in  a 
mummy  s  hand  four  thousand  years  sprang  into  life 
when  planted.  They  only  awaited  moisture,  heat,  sun- 
light,  and  air  to  develop  them.  The  cholera  once  spread 
all  over  Europe  from  the  germs  in  a  sailor’s  clothes, 
found  in  an  old  chest  on  shipboard,  after  lying  there 
fifty  years.  They  waited  half  a  century  for  the  proper 
conditions  for  development.  We  should  take  care  never 
to  let  our  systems  run  down  below  the  health-line. 
Germs  of  a  hundred  diseases  lurk  just  below  this  line, 
waiting  for  some  indiscretion,  some  weakness,  some 
opportunity  to  gain  a  foothold.  So  in  the  field  of  hu¬ 
man  society,  corruption  first,  attacks  those  who  are 
physically  feeble.  How  many  are  wicked  only  because 
they  are  physically  weak  !  Many  a  youth  becomes  mor¬ 
ally  depraved  simply  because  he  has  been  a  stranger  to 
fresh  air,  cold  water,  and  exercise. 

Nature  is  ever  merciful,  and  tries  to  bring  compensa¬ 
tion  for  the  loss  of  any  function.  If  you  become  deaf 
and  dumb  and  blind,  Nature  develops  an  exquisite  sense 
of  touch.  Laura  Bridgman  could  even  detect  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  a  good,  or  of  a  bad  person  in  a  room,  by  an 
agreeable  or  disagreeable  sensation. 

An  electric  eel  cannot  give  shocks  all  the  time.  An 
overstrained  bow  will  soon  lose  its  tension.  But  who 
shall  dare  to  enter  God’s  temple  to  repair  any  mischief  ? 
The  wisdom  of  the  wisest  is  of  no  avail  to  rebreathe  the 
departed  breath  into  the  lifeless  clay.  All  the  chemists 
in  the  universe  cannot  manufacture  one  drop  of  blood, 
nor  can  physician’s  skill  rouse  the  tired  heart  which  has 
once  stood  still.  No  doctor  can  lay  his  clumsy  hand 
on  the  delicate  brain  and  bid  it  think  again.  But  the 


868 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


necessary  ounce  of  prevention  is  at  one’s  command.  He 
must  not  live  too  intensely,  if  he  would  live  long  in 
years. 

“  No  thinking  person  hearing  Malibran  sing,”  said 
Poe,  u  could  have  doubted  that  she  would  die  in  the 
spring  of  her  days.  She  crowded  ages  into  hours. 
She  left  the  world  at  twenty-five,  having  existed  her 
thousands  of  years.” 

Raphael,  according  to  E.  P.  Whipple  the  greatest 
painter  of  moral  beauty,  and  Titian,  the  greatest  painter 
of  sensuous  beauty,  were  both  almost  equally  young, 
though  Raphael  died  at  thirty-seven,  while  Titian  was 
prematurely  cut  off  by  the  plague  when  he  was  only  a 
hundred. 

Byron  died,  worn-out  and  old,  at  thirty-six ;  Burke 
was  young  at  sixty-six. 

Dr.  Richardson  says  that  the  natural  life  of  animals 
is  six  times  the  period  required  to  become  fully  grown. 
According  to  this,  man  should  live  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years.  That  such  longevity  is  attainable  is 
shown  by  Russian  statistics.  In  1891  there  were  re¬ 
ported  in  that  country  eight  hundred  fifty -eight  deaths 
of  people  between  the  ages  of  one  hundred  and  one  hun¬ 
dred  and  five  years,  one  hundred  thirty  between  one 
hundred  fifteen  and  one  hundred  twenty,  while  three 
were  reported  to  be  one  hundred  fifty  years  of  age,  or 
more.  But  in  Russia,  as  indeed  in  all  European  coun¬ 
tries,  the  thing  which  surprises  an  American  is  the  delib¬ 
erateness  with  which  everything  is  done.  Everybody 
seems  to  have  time  enough.  In  Austria  the  wholesale 
stores  and  the  banks  close  between  noon  and  two  o’clock. 
Europeans  realize  that  rest  should  follow  intense  appli¬ 
cation,  and  that  long-continued  labor  should  be  per¬ 
formed  with  deliberation. 

“  I  would  keep  better  hours  if  I  were  a  boy  again,” 
said  James  T.  Fields ;  “  that  is,  I  would  go  to  bed  earlier 
than  most  boys  do.”  Nothing  gives  more  mental  and 


A  LONG  LIFE ,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT,  369 

bodily  vigor  than  sound  rest  when  properly  applied. 
Sleep  is  our  replenisher. 

“In  all  my  political  life,”  said  Gladstone,  “I  have 
never  been  kept  awake  five  minutes  by  any  debate  in 
Parliament.” 

Horace  Greeley  refused  to  sit  up  at  night  sessions  of 
Congress,  abruptly  leaving  when  his  hour  for  retiring 
arrived. 

“I  can  do  nothing,”  said  Grant,  “without  nine  hours5 
sleep.” 

Pate  hours  are  shadows  from  the  grave. 

For  the  evils  resulting  from  late  hours,  improper 
diet,  lack  of  exercise,  and  other  forms  of  intemperance, 
men  have  been  accustomed  to  seek  relief  in  drugs,  but 
they  are  beginning  to  realize  that  the  aid  a  physician 
can  render  is  almost  wholly  limited  to  cheering  and  en¬ 
couraging  his  patients,  and  helping  them  to  follow  ordi¬ 
nary  hygienic  laws.  Very  many  of  our  diseases  exist 
only  in  the  imagination  and  consciousness  of  the 
patient. 

Moliere  said  that  physicians  pour  medicine  about 
which  they  know  little  into  bodies  of  which  they  know 
less,  in  order  to  cure  disease  about  which  they  know 
nothing  at  all. 

“We  talk  together,”  said  Moliere  of  his  doctor;  “ he 
prescribes,  I  never  take  his  physic,  and  consequently  I 
get  well.”  At  another  time  he  said  that  a  doctor  is  a 
man  whom  people  pay  to  relate  trifles  in  the  sick-room, 
until  either  nature  has  cured  the  patient,  or  physic  has 
killed  him. 

Employ  three  physicians  :  First,  Doctor  Quiet ;  then, 
Doctor  Merryman ;  and  then,  Doctor  Diet. 

Our  beliefs  are  built  upon  models,  and  an  ideal  body 
can  never  be  built  upon  a  deformed  and  sick  model. 
The  model  in  the  mind  must  be  perfect,  if  we  would 
obtain  perfection  of  the  body. 

The  very  fact  that  we  are  conscious  that  the  physical 


870 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


manhood  of  our  race  should  be  lifted  out  of  its  bondage 
to  a  higher  level,  and  that  the  Great  Teacher  com¬ 
manded  us  not  only  to  be  perfect,  but  “  perfect  even  as 
our  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect/’  is  proof  that  such 
perfection  is  possible.  God  has  not  given  the  bird  an 
instinct  for  the  South  in  winter,  without  a  South  to 
match  it ;  nor  has  he  mocked  us  with  ideals,  longings, 
and  aspirations  which  we  have  no  power  to  attain. 
The  very  consciousness  that  we  are  capable  of  perform¬ 
ing  infinitely  more  than  we  ever  do  accomplish,  is  an 
indication  that  such  perfection  is  possible,  and  that  we 
shall  have  time  and  opportunity  somewhere  to  develop 
into  that  perfect  model.  Man  has  an  ideal  in  his  soul, 
of  the  physical  man,  as  well  as  of  the  moral  man,  and 
He  who  gave  this  ideal  will  give  the  opportunity  for  its 
realization. 

Although  we  cannot  defy  death,  it  is  now  well  known 
that  we  can  greatly  delay  it  by  carefully  observing  the 
laws  of  health,  especially  in  regard  to  diet.  The  chief 
characteristics  of  old  age  are  found  to  be  deposits  of 
a  gelatinous  and  fibrinous  character  in  the  human  sys¬ 
tem,  producing  gradual  ossification.  Man  begins  life  in 
a  gelatinous  condition,  and  ends  it  in  an  osseous  or 
bony  one  —  soft  in  infancy,  hard  in  old  age.  This  pro¬ 
cess  is  desirable  in  childhood ;  but,  as  we  grow  older,  it 
is  thought  we  may  retard  it  more  and  more  by  swal¬ 
lowing  less  and  less  of  the  carbonates  and  phosphates 
of  lime,  the  principal  agents  by  which  the  transfor¬ 
mation  is  effected.  For  this  purpose  the  best  drink  is 
distilled  water,  while  fruits,  fish,  poultry,  veal,  and 
lamb  are  much  better  than  beef,  bread,  or  salt  meat  of 
any  kind.  In  this,  as  in  other  things,  the  best  way  to 
conquer  Nature  is  to  learn  and  obey  her  laws. 

The  body  has  its  claims,  —  it  is  a  good  servant;  treat  it  well,  and  it  will 
do  vonr  work;  attend  to  its  wants  and  requirements,  listen  kindly  and 
patiently  to  its  hints,  occasionally  forestall  its  necessities  by  a  little  indul¬ 
gence,  and  your  consideration  will  be  repaid  with  interest.  But  task  it,  and 
pme  it,  and  suffocate  it,  make  it  a  slave  instead  of  a  servant,  it  may  not 


A  LONG  LIFE,  AND  HOW  TO  REACH  IT.  371 


complain  much,  but,  like  the  weary  camel  in  the  desert,  it  will  lie  down 
and  die*  Charles  Elam. 


O  Father,  grant  Thy  love  divine, 

To  make  these  mystic  temples  Thine. 

When  wasting  age  and  wearying  strife 
Have  sapped  the  leaning  walls  of  life  ; 

When  darkness  gathers  over  all, 

And  the  last  tottering  pillars  fall, 

Take  the  poor  dust  Thy  mercy  warms, 

And  mould  it  into  heavenly  forms. 

Holmes. 


/  i 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


BE  BRIEF. 


I  saw  one  excellency  was  within  my  reach — it  was  brevity,  and  I 
determined  to  obtain  it.  — Jay. 


Brevity  is  the  best  recommendation  of  speech,  whether  in  a  senator  or  an 
orator.  —  Cicero. 


Words  are  like  leaves,  and  where  they  most  abound, 

Much  fruit  of  sense  beneath  is  rarely  found. 

Pope. 

The  fewer  the  words,  the  better  the  prayer.  —  Luther. 

Be  comprehensive  in  all  you  say  or  write.  —  John  Neal. 

Brevity  is  very  good 

When  we  are,  or  are  not,  understood. 

Butler. 


Concentration  alone  conquers.  —  Chas.  Buxton. 


Be  brief,  let  us  say  witli  Sargent.  Come  to  the  point. 
Begin  very  near  where  you  mean  to  leave  off.  Brevity 
is  the  soul  of  wisdom  as  well  as  of  wit.  Gems  are  not 
reckoned  by  gross  weight.  The  common  air  we  beat 
aside  with  our  breath,  compressed,  has  the  force  of 
gunpowder,  and  will  rend  the  solid  rock.  A  gentle 
stream  of  persuasiveness  may  flow  through  the  mind, 
and  leave  no  sediment  :  let  it  come  at  a  blow,  as  a  cata¬ 
ract,  and  it  sweeps  all  before  it.  Mere  words  are  cheap 
and  plenty  enough  ;  but  ideas  that  rouse,  and  set  multi¬ 
tudes  thinking,  come  as  gold  from  the  mine. 

The  leaden  bullet  is  more  fatal  than  when  multiplied 
into  shot.  If  you  want  to  do  substantial  work,  concen¬ 
trate  ;  and  if  you  wish  to  give  others  the  benefit  of 
your  work,  condense.  Rufus  Choate  would  express  in  a 
minute’s  conversation  what  his  contemporaries  would 
require  an  hour  to  state  clearly. 

One  of  the  firm  of  Baring  Brothers  once  called  Stephen 


BE  BRIEF. 


373 


Girard  from  a  hay-loft,  and  said :  “  I  came  to  inform 
you  that  your  ship,  the  Voltaire,  has  arrived  safely.” 
“ I  knew  tliat  slie  would  reach  port  safely/'  replied 
Girard ;  “  my  ships  always  arrive  safe.  She  is  a  good 
ship.  Mr.  Baring,  you  must  excuse  me,  I  am  much 
engaged  in  my  haying."  And  he  returned  to  his  work. 

While  Hoi  ace  Greeley  would  devote  a  column  of  the 
“New  York  Tribune"  to  an  article,  Thurlow  Weed 
would  treat  the  same  subject  in  a  few  words  in  the 

Albany  Evening  Journal,"  and  put  the  argument  into 
such  shape  as  to  carry  far  more  conviction. 

“Be  brief,"  Cyrus  W.  Field  would  say  to  callers; 
i  time  is  very  valuable.  Punctuality,  honesty,  and 
brevity  are  the  watchwords  of  life.  Never  write  a  long 
letter.  A  business  man  has  not  time  to  read  it.  If 
you  have  anything  to  say,  be  brief.  There  is  no  busi¬ 
ness  so  important  that  it  can't  be  told  on  one  sheet  of 
paper.  Years  ago,  when  I  was  laying  the  Atlantic 
cable,  I  had  occasion  to  send  a  very  important  letter  to 
England.  I  knew  it  would  have  to  be  read  by  the  prime 
minister  and  by  the  queen.  I  wrote  out  what  I  had  to 
say ;  it  covered  several  sheets  of  paper ;  then  I  went 
over  it  twenty  times,  eliminating  words  here  and  there, 
making  sentences  briefer,  until  finally  I  got  all  I  had  to 
say  on  one  sheet  of  paper.  Then  I  mailed  it.  In  due 
time  I  received  the  answer.  It  was  a  satisfactory  one 
too ;  but  do  you  think  I  would  have  fared  so  well  if  my 
letter  had  covered  half  a  dozen  sheets  ?  No,  indeed. 
Brevity  is  a  rare  gift,  and  punctuality  has  made  many 
a  man's  fortune.  If  you  make  an  appointment,  be  sure 
and  keep  it,  and  be  on  time ;  no  man  of  business  can 
afford  to  lose  a  moment  in  these  busy  times." 

“  Call  upon  a  business  man  in  business  hours.  State 
your  business  in  a  business  way  ;  and,  when  done  with 
business  matters,  go  about  your  business,  and  leave  the 
business  man  to  attend  to  his  business." 

A.  T.  Stewart  regarded  his  time  as  his  capital.  No 


374 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


one  was  admitted  to  his  private  office  until  he  had 
stated  his  business  to  a  sentinel  at  an  outer  door,  and 
then  to  another  near  the  office.  If  the  visitor  pleaded 
private  business,  the  sentinel  would  say,  “  Mr.  Stewart 
has  no  private  business.”  When  admittance  was  gained 
one  had  to  be  brief.  The  business  of  Stewart’s  great  es¬ 
tablishment  was  dispatched  with  a  system  and  promp¬ 
titude  which  surprised  rival  merchants.  There  was  no 
dawdling  or  dallying  or  fooling,  but  “  business”  was  the 
watchword  from  morning  until  night.  He  refused  to  be 
drawn  into  friendly  conversation  during  business  hours,. 
He  had  not  a  moment  to  waste. 

“  Genuine  good  taste,”  says  Fenelon,  “  consists  in 
saying  much  in  a  few  words,  in  choosing  among  our 
thoughts,  in  having  order  and  arrangement  in  what  wre 
say,  and  in  speaking  with  composure.” 

“  If  you  would  be  pungent,”  says  Southey,  “  be  brief ; 
for  it  is  with  words  as  with  sunbeams  —  the  more  they 
are  condensed,  the  deeper  they  burn.” 

“  When  one  has  no  design  but  to  speak  plain  truth,” 
says  Steele,  “  he  may  say  a  great  deal  in  a  very  narrow 
compass.” 

The  fame  of  the  Seven  Wise  Men  of  Greece  rested 
largely  upon  a  single  sentence  by  each,  of  only  two  or 
three  words. 

“  The  wisdom  of  nations  lies  in  their  proverbs.” 

“Have  something  to  say,”  says  Tryon  Edwards j 
“  say  it,  and  stop  when  you  ’ve  done.” 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


ASPIRATION. 

Ah,  but  a  man’s  reach  should  exceed  his  grasp, 

Or  what  is  heaven  for  ? 

Robert  Browning. 

Too  tow  they  build  who  build  beneath  the  stars.  —  Young. 

A  prayer,  in  its  simplest  definition,  is  simply  a  wish  turned  heavenward. 

Phillips  Brooks. 

From  the  lowest  depth  there  is  a  path  to  the  loftiest  height.  —  Carlyle. 

Our  only  greatness  is  that  we  aspire.  —  Jean  Ingelow. 

Uid  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  who  had  striven  all  his  life  faithfully  and 
singly  towards  an  object,  and  in  no  measure  obtained  it  ?  If  a  man  con¬ 
stantly  aspires,  is  he  not  elevated  ?  Did  ever  a  man  try  heroism,  magna¬ 
nimity,  truth,  sincerity,  and  find  that  there  was  no  advantage  in  them  — 
that  it  was  a  vain  endeavor  ?  —  Thoreau. 

“  The  mission  of  genius  on  earth:  to  uplift, 

Purify  and  redeem  by  its  own  gracious  gift 
The  world,  in  spite  of  the  world’s  dull  endeavor 
To  drag  down  and  degrade  and  oppose  it  forever. 

The  mission  of  genius:  to  watch  and  to  wait, 

To  renew,  to  redeem,  and  to  regenerate.” 

Whoever  is  satisfied  with  what  he  does,  has  reached  his  culminating 
point  —  he  will  progress  no  more.  Man’s  destiny  is  to  be  not  dissatisfied, 
but  forever  unsatisfied.  —  F.  W.  Robertson. 

“Endeavor  to  be  first  in  thy  calling,  whatever  it  may  be  ;  neither  let 
any  one  go  before  thee  in  well  doing.” 

“He  is  gone,  then  !  The  good  old  man  is  gone.  We 
shall  never  see  his  snowy  locks -again,  nor  his  placid 
countenance,  nor  his  old  horse  and  gig  jogging  by. 
Peter  Cooper  is  dead  !  ”  Parton  says  that  these  words 
of  a  neighbor  expressed  the  feelings  of  all  the  people  of 
New  York,  City  and  State.  Flags  were  placed  at  half- 
mast  from  the  Hudson  to  the  Great  Lakes,  and  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Alleghanies.  Why  was  such 
honor  paid  on  that  April  day  in  eighteen  hundred  and 
eighty-three  to  a  plain  citizen  born  ninety-two  years 
before  ? 


376 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT 


His  father  was  a  hatter  in  New  York  in  Peter’s 
earliest  youth,  and  the  boy  learned  to  make  good  beaver 
hats  of  skins  bought  of  John  Jacob  Astor.  Peter  per¬ 
suaded  his  father  to  let  him  learn  a  trade  in  New  York. 

“  Have  you  any  room  for  an  apprentice  ?  ”  he  asked 
of  a  carriage-maker.  “  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  business  ?  ”  “  No,  sir.”  “  Have  you  been  brought 

up  to  work  ?  ”  “  Yes,  sir.”  “  If  I  take  you,  will  you 

stay  and  work  out  your  time  ?  ”  Peter  promised,  and 
for  four  years  he  worked  hard  for  twenty-five  dollars  a 
year  and  his  board.  He  made  a  machine  for  mortising 
hubs,  which  proved  very  profitable  to  his  employer. 

Having  been  denied  the  ordinary  school  privileges  of 
children,  he  tried  to  find  some  evening-school  in  which 
he  could  obtain  help  in  his  studies  while  working  at  his 
trade  by  day.  There  were  no  such  schools  then,  but 
the  young  man  said  to  himself  :  “  If  ever  I  prosper  in 
business  so  as  to  acquire  more  property  than  I  need,  I 
will  try  to  found  an  institution  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
wherein  apprentice  boys  and  young  mechanics  shall 
have  a  chance  to  get  knowledge  in  the  evening.” 

The  War  of  1812  spoiled  the  carriage  business  just  as 
he  finished  his  apprenticeship,  but  soon  there  was  a  ' 
sharp  demand  for  cloth  and  for  machinery  for  its  man¬ 
ufacture.  Peter  invented  a  machine  for  cutting  the  nap 
on  cloth,  and  could  not  make  enough  to  supply  the  de¬ 
mand.  He  married  Sarah  Bedel,  who  proved  to  him 
throughout  life  a  jewel  of  great  price. 

Peace  followed  ;  foreign  goods  poured  in,  and  the  de¬ 
mand  for  Peter’s  machines  ceased.  He  next  tried  cabi¬ 
net-making,  but  was  not  successful.  He  bought  a 
grocery-store  and  was  prospering  a  year  later,  when  an 
old  friend  said :  “  I  have  been  building  a  glue  factory 
for  my  son ;  but  I  don’t  think  that  either  he  or  I  can 
make  it  pay.  But  you  are  the  very  man  to  do  it.” 

“  I  ’ll  go  and  see  it,”  said  Mr.  Cooper. 

The  price  was  two  thousand  dollars.  Peter  Cooper 


ASP  IRA  TION. 


377 

had  just  that  amount.  Ide  knew  nothing  of  making 
glue,  and  only  understood  that  the  American  article 
was  almost  worthless  compared  with  that  imported  from 
Russia.  But  he  made  the  business  yield  him  thirty 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  acting  for  twenty  years  without 
clerk,  bookkeeper,  salesman,  or  agent.  When  his  men 
came  to  work  at  seven,  they  always  found  the  fires 
burning,  lighted  by  the  master’s  hand.  He  gave  close 
personal  attention  to  the  boiling  of  his  glue  all  the  fore¬ 
noon  ;  at  noon  he  started  around  the  city  to  sell  glue 
and  isinglass ;  and  in  the  evening  he  posted  books  and 
read  to  his  wife  and  children. 

In  1828  he  bought  three  thousand  acres  of  land  in 
Baltimore  for  one  hundred  and  five  thousand  dollars. 
The  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad  was  then  building; 
but  on  account  of  the  many  curves  made  necessary  to 
avoid  points  of  rocks,  the  expense  was  so  greatly  in¬ 
creased  that  the  stockholders  talked  of  abandoning  the 
project,  as  it  was  not  believed  that  a  locomotive  could 
run  on  so  crooked  a  road.  Mr.  Cooper  urged  them  not 
to  give  it  up,  and  built  a  locomotive  which  was  a  suc¬ 
cess,  thus  saving  the  company  from  bankruptcy. 

When  sixty  years  old  he  found  that  he  had  seven 
hundred  thousand  dollars  above  the  capital  in  his  vari¬ 
ous  enterprises.  Evening-schools  had  by  that  time  been 
established  in  every  ward  ;  and  he  was  in  doubt  what  to 
do  until  he  heard  of  the  Polytechnic  School  of  Paris, 
when  his  plan  was  formed  at  once.  Cooper  Union  was 
built  as  a  free  gift  to  the  city,  on  the  site  of  his  old 
grocery-store,  at  a  cost  of  seven  hundred  thousand  dol¬ 
lars,  and  has  since  been  endowed  by  Mr.  Cooper  until 
his  total  benefaction  amounts  to  two  million  dollars. 
\V  hen  the  doors  were  opened,  two  thousand  young 
people  applied  for  admission ;  and  since  that  day,  many 
thousand  have  been  fitted  therein  for  lives  of  useful¬ 
ness.  Well  might  a  State  mourn  the  loss  of  such  a 
man  I 


378 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


The  story  of  Peter  Cooper’s  life  is  only  another  illus¬ 
tration  of  the  value  of  an  ideal  and  of  the  necessity  of 
enthusiasm  to  accomplish  it.  No  aspiration  is  too  high ; 
the  very  grandeur  of  it  is  a  promise  of  strength  for  its 
fulfillment. 

“  When  will  they  come  ?  ”  asked  a  thousand  voices 
again  and  again,  as  the  people  waited  outside  St 
Andrew’s  Church,  to  see  if  the  spirit  of  the  Covenanter 
still  lived  in  Scotland.  The  government  had  asserted 
jurisdiction  over  the  Scottish  clergy,  which  the  latter 
could  not  conscientiously  yield. 

“  They  will  not  come,”  was  the  confident  reply  of 
those  who  had  no  faith  in  the  power  of  principle,  O” 
that  18th  day  of  May,  1843. 

Within,  the  house  had  been  called  to  order  in  the 
presence  of  the  royal  commissioner.  The  prayer  was 
followed  by  silence.  Moderator  Welsh,  “  his  pure  and 
glowing  spirit  shining  through  his  fragile  body  like  a 
lamp  through  a  vase  of  alabaster,”  protested  against  the 
attempt  at  jurisdiction,  laid  his  protest  upon  the  table, 
bowed  to  the  commissioner,  and  walked  towards  the 
door.  Those  who  would  follow  must  abandon  their 
charges  and  incomes,  to  become  poor  and  houseless. 
The  aged  Chalmers,  with  “massive  frame  and  lion 
port,”  follows,  and  then  another  and  another  until  all 
the  noblest  of  Scotland’s  clergy  have  left  the  church, 
four  hundred  ministers  and  as  many  elders.  Four 
thousand  voices  unite  with  theirs  in  singing :  — 

“  God  is  our  refuge  and  our  strength, 

In  straits  a  present  aid  ; 

Therefore,  although  the  earth  remove, 

We  will  not  be  afraid.” 

“  Our  yearnings,”  says  Beecher,  “  are  homesicknesses 
for  heaven.  Our  sighings  are  sighings  for  God,  just  as 
children  cry  themselves  asleep  away  from  home,  and 
sob  in  their  slumber,  not  knowing  that  they  sob  for 
their  parents.  The  soul’s  inarticulate  meanings  are  the 


ASPIRATION . 


379 


affections  yearning  for  tlie  Infinite,  and  having  no  one 
to  tell  them  what  it  is  that  ails  them.” 

An  old  legend  tells  of  a  king  and  a  queen  who  had  a 
fair  son.  Twelve  fairies  brought  each  a  blessing,  such 
as  wisdom,  beauty,  strength,  the  last  bearing  the  gift  of 
discontent.  The  king  was  angry  with  the  twelfth  fairy, 
and  drove  her  away.  The  prince  grew  with  great  proim 
ise,  but  manifested  no  disposition  to  develop  his  talents. 
There  was  no  energy,  no  eagerness,  no  ambition  in  his 
work. 

Tradition  says  that  when  Solomon  received  the  gift 
of  an  emerald  vase  from  the  queen  of  Sheba,  he  filled 
it  with  an  elixir  which  he  only  knew  how  to  prepare, 
one  drop  of  which  would  prolong  life  indefinitely.  A 
dying  criminal  begged  for  a  drop  of  the  precious  fluid, 
but  Solomon  refused  to  prolong  a  wicked  life.  When 
good  men  asked  for  it,  they  were  refused,  or  failed  to 
obtain  it  when  promised,  as  the  king  would  forget  or 
prefer  not  to  open  the  vase  to  get  but  a  single  drop. 
When  at  last  the  king  became  ill,  and  bade  his  servants 
bring  the  vase,  he  found  that  the  contents  had  all  evap¬ 
orated.  So  it  is  often  with  our  hope,  our  faith,  our  am¬ 
bition,  our  aspiration. 

“  Ere  yet  we  yearn  for  what  is  out  of  our  reach,”  says 
Bulwer,  “we  are  still  in  the  cradle.  When,  wearied 
out  with  our  yearnings,  desire  again  falls  asleep,  we  are 
on  the  death-bed.” 

Every  star  in  heaven,  it  is  said,  is  discontented  and 
insatiable.  Gravitation  and  chemistry  cannot  content 
them.  Ever  they  woo  and  court  the  eye  of  every  be¬ 
holder.  Every  man  who  comes  into  the  world  they  seek 
to  fascinate  and  possess,  to  pass  into  his  mind,  for  they 
desire  to  republish  themselves  in  a  more  delicate  world 
than  that  they  occupy.  It  is  not  enough  that  they  are 
Jove,  Mars,  Orion,  and  the  North  Star,  in  the  gravita¬ 
ting  firmament :  they  would  have  such  poets  as  Newton, 
Herschel,  and  Laplace,  that  they  may  reexist  and  reap- 


380 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


pear  in  the  finer  world  of  rational  souls,  and  fill  that 
realm  with  their  fame. 

Cardinal  Farnese  discovered  the  great  genuis  Michael 
Angelo  walking  alone  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum. 
Expressing  his  surprise  at  finding  him  so  occupied,  the 
modest  artist  replied,  “  I  go  to  school  that  I  may  con¬ 
tinue  to  learn.’7 

“More  than  once,”  said  Peter  Force  to  George  W. 
Greene  the  historian,  “  did  I  hesitate  between  a  barrel 
of  flour  and  a  rare  book ;  but  the  book  always  got  the 
upper  hand.  Whenever  I  found  a  little  more  money  in 
my  purse  than  I  absolutely  needed,  I  published  a  vol¬ 
ume  of  historical  tracts.”  Although  not  a  rich  man,  he 
accumulated  a  library  of  22,529  bound  volumes  and 
some  40,000  pamphlets,  most  of  them  of  historical 
value ;  so  much  so  that  Mr.  A.  P.  Spofford,  Librarian  of 
Congress,  persuaded  that  body  to  purchase  the  collection 
for  $100,000.  Mr.  Force  also  wrote  the  “American 
Archives,”  perhaps  the  greatest  treasury  extant  of  our 
early  history. 

“  Certainly  it  is  a  glorious  fever,  that  desire  to  know,” 
says  Bulwer.  “  And  there  are  few  sights  in  the  moral 
world  more  sublime  than  that  which  many  a  garret 
might  afford,  if  Asmodeus  would  bare  the  roofs  to  our 
survey,  viz.,  a  brave,  patient,  earnest  human  being 
toiling  his  own  arduous  way,  athwart  the  iron  walls 
of  penury,  into  the  magnificent  Infinite,  which  is  lu¬ 
minous  with  starry  souls.” 

“If  I  held  Truth  captive  in  my  hand,”  said  Male- 
branche,  “I  should  open  my  hand  and  let  it  fly,  in 
order  that  I  might  again  pursue  and  capture  it.” 

“  Our  sense  of  details,  our  fatal  habits  of  reasoning, 
paralyze  us,”  said  Heraclitus ;  “  we  need  the  impulse 
of  the  pure  ideal.” 

When  the  barber  Ambroise  Pare  saw  a  surgical  opera- 
tion  performed  with  great  skill,  he  aspired  to  become  a 
surgeon,  that  he  might  relieve  suffering  humanity.  His 


ASPIRATION . 


881 


whole-souled  study  and  careful  practice  led  him  to  rev¬ 
olutionize  the  art.  He  found  it  the  custom  to  sear  gun¬ 
shot  wounds  with  red-hot  irons  to  stop  the  bleeding, 
and  then  dress  them  with  boiling  oil.  Amputation  was 
performed  with  a  red-hot  knife,  and  anaesthetics  were 
unknown.  Pare  discarded  the  boiling  oil,  the  red-hot 
knife  and  irons;  used  emollient  applications  instead, 
and  stopped  bleeding  by  means  of  ligatures  above  the 
wounds.  The  learned  doctors  ridiculed  the  man  who 
was  ignorant  of  Latin,  but  the  French  soldiers  said: 
“Let  Pare  go  with  us,  and  we  will  march  against  any 
enemy  and  endure  any  fatigues.” 

Who  has  not  noticed  the  power  of  love  in  an  awk¬ 
ward,  crabbed,  shiftless,  lazy  man  ?  He  becomes  gentle, 
chaste  in  language,  enthusiastic,  energetic.  Love  brings 
out  the  poetry  in  him.  It  is  only  an  idea,  a  sentiment, 
and  yet  what  magic  it  has  wrought.  Nothing  we  can 
see  has  touched  the  man,  yet  he  is  entirely  transformed. 
So  a  high  ambition  completely  transforms  a  human 
being,  making  him  despise  ease  and  sloth,  welcome  toil 
and  hardship,  and  shake  even  kingdoms  to  gratify  his 
master  passion.  Mere  ambition  has  impelled  many  a 
man  to  a  life  of  eminence  and  usefulness ;  its  higher 
manifestation,  aspiration,  has  led  him  beyond  the  stars. 
If  the  aim  be  right,  the  life  in  its  details  cannot  be 
far  wrong.  Your  heart  must  inspire  what  your  hands 
execute,  or  the  work  will  be  poorly  done.  The  hand 
cannot  reach  higher  than  does  the  heart. 

“  I,  too,  am  a  painter,”  said  Correggio  when  he  first 
looked  at  Raphael’s  Saint  Cecilia.  Demosthenes  was 
so  fired  by  the  eloquence  of  Calistratus  that  he  then 
and  there  resolved  to  be  an  orator,  although  apparently 
he  had  not  the  slightest  qualification  for  such  a  career. 
His  voice  was  weak,  indistinct,  and  squeaky,  and  he  had 
a  feeble  constitution. 

When  the  temperance  crusade  began  in  Ohio,  in  1874, 
it  stirred  the  very  depths  of  the  soul  of  Frances  E.  Wil* 


382 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FR0N7. 


lard,  the  first  woman  ever  elected  president  of  a  col¬ 
lege.  She  resigned  her  large  salary  and  advocated  the 
temperance  cause  with  her  whole  heart  and  soul.  She 
and  her  mother  soon  became  reduced  to  the  verge  of 
absolute  want.  One  day  she  received  an  offer  of  the 
presidency  of  the  Normal  Institution  of  New  York 
city,  with  a  yearly  salary  of  $2500.00,  and  another 
offer  of  the  presidency  of  the  Chicago  W.  C.  T.  U.,  a 
position  entailing  poverty  and  hardship.  She  chose 
the  latter.  For  ten  years,  she  worked  in  the  cars, 
averaged  one  lecture  a  day,  answered  yearly  some 
20,000  letters,  and  traveled  nearly  2000  miles  a  month. 
During  these  ten  years  she  also  wrote  several  books,  and 
hundreds  of  pamphlets,  tracts,  and  newspaper  letters. 
An  earnest  aspiration  is  her  incentive,  “  shrewd  system, 
stern  concentration,  peace,  and  good  cheer,”  her 
methods. 

John  Euskin  has  given  away  most  of  his  fortune  in 
his  efforts  to  teach  English  artisans  what  is  beautiful. 

Aspiration  like  that  of  Miss  Willard  or  Euskin  brings 
blessing  to  its  possessor  and  those  about  him.  The 
cold  ambition  of  Louis  XIII.  cost  France  a  million 
lives  during  his  reign  of  nearly  seventy-two  years, 
while  in  one  third  of  that  period  Napoleon’s  insatiate 
love  of  power  caused  the  loss  of  five  million  lives  in 
Europe. 

Man  never  reaches  heights  above  his  habitual  thought. 
It  is  not  enough  now  and  then  to  mount  on  wings  of 
ecstasy  into  the  infinite.  We  must  habitually  dwell 
there.  The  great  man  is  he  who  abides  easily  on 
heights  to  which  others  rise  occasionally  and  with  diffi¬ 
culty.  Don’t  let  the  maxims  of  a  low  prudence  daily 
dinned  into  your  ears  lower  the  tone  of  your  high 
ambition  or  check  your  aspiration.  Hope  lifts  us  step 
by  step  up  the  mysterious  ladder,  the  top  of  which  no 
eye  hath  ever  seen.  Though  we  do  not  find  what  hope 
promised,  yet  we  are  stronger  for  the  climbing,  and  we 


ASPIRATION. 


383 


get  a  broader  outlook  upon  life  which  repays  the  effort. 
Indeed,  if  we  do  not  follow  where  hope  beckons,  we 
gradually  slide  down  the  ladder  in  despair.  Strive  ever 
to  be  at  the  top  of  your  condition.  A  high  standard  is 
absolutely  necessary. 

“  Show  me  a  contented  slave,”  says  Burke,  “  and  I 
will  show  you  a  degraded  man.” 

About  350  B.  C.,  according  to  a  Koman  apologue,  the 
haruspices  declared  that  an  earthquake  chasm  in  the 
forum  could  be  filled  only  by  casting  into  it  that  which 
upheld  the  greatness  of  Borne.  Forth  from  the  be¬ 
wildered  throng  rode  Marcus  Curtius,  clad  in  complete 
armor,  and  said  that  a  brave  soldier  was  one  of  the 
most  indispensable  pillars  of  the  glory  of  his  native 
land. 

“  O  Rome !  O  country  best  beloved  !  Thou  land  in  which  I  first  drew 
breath ! 

I  render  back  the  life  thou  gav’st,  to  rescue  thee  from  death ! 

Then  spurring  on  his  gallant  steed,  a  last  and  brief  farewell  lie  said, 

And  leapt  within  the  gaping  gulf,  which  closed  above  his  head.” 

“  If  I  had  read  the  life  of  Napoleon  when  I  was  a 
boy,”  said  a  great  man,  “  my  own  life  might  have  been 
very  different.  It  would  have  filled  me  with  an  ambi¬ 
tion  to  make  the  most  of  myself.” 

A  man  cannot  aspire  if  he  looks  down.  God  has  not 
created  us  with  aspirations  and  longings  for  heights  to 
which  we  cannot  climb.  Live  upward.  The  unat¬ 
tained  still  beckons  us  towards  the  summit  of  life’s 
mountains,  into  the  atmosphere  where  great  souls  live 
and  breathe  and  have  their  being.  Even  hope  is  but  a 
promise  of  the  possibility  of  its  own  fulfillment.  Life 
should  be  lived  in  earnest.  It  is  no  idle  game,  no  farce 
to  amuse  and  be  forgotten.  It  is  a  stern  reality,  fuller 
of  duties  than  the  sky  of  stars.  You  cannot  have  too 
much  of  that  yearning  which  we  call  aspiration,  for, 
even  though  you  do  not  attain  your  ideal,  the  efforts  you 
make  will  bring  nothing  but  blessing  j  while  he  who 


384 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


fails  of  attaining  mere  worldly  goals  is  too  often  eaten 
up  with  the  canker-worm  of  disappointed  ambition. 
To  all  will  come  a  time  when  the  love  of  glory  will 
be  seen  to  be  but  a  splendid  delusion,  riches  empty, 
rank  vain,  power  dependent,  and  all  outward  advan¬ 
tages  without  inward  peace  a  mere  mockery  of  wretch¬ 
edness.  The  wisest  men  have  taken  care  to  uproot 
selfish  ambition  from  their  breasts.  Shakespeare  consid¬ 
ered  it  so  near  a  vice  as  to  need  extenuating  circum¬ 
stances  to  make  it  a  virtue. 

Avoid  the  content  of  the  Asiatic  on  the  one  hand,  who 
ploughs  with  a  stick  like  that  used  by  his  ancestors 
thousands  of  years  ago,  and  is  satisfied  with  the  crooked 
furrows  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  be  deluded  with 
ambition  beyond  your  power  of  reasonable  attain¬ 
ment  or  tortured  by  wishes  totally  disproportioned  to 
your  capacity  of  fulfillment.  You  may,  indeed,  confi¬ 
dently  hope  to  become  eminent  in  usefulness  or  power, 
but  only  as  you  build  upon  a  broad  foundation  of  self- 
culture  ;  while,  as  a  rule,  specialists  in  ambition  as  in 
science  are  apt  to  become  narrow  and  one-sided.  Dar¬ 
win  was  very  fond  of  music  and  poetry  when  young, 
but,  after  devoting  his  life  to  science,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  Shakespeare  tedious.  He  said  that  if  he  were 
to  live  his  life  again,  he  would  read  poetry  and  hear 
music  every  day,  so  as  not  to  lose  the  power  of  appre¬ 
ciating  such  things. 

“  Every  life,”  says  Julia  Ward  Howe,  “  has  its  actual 
blanks  which  the  ideal  must  fill  up,  or  which  else  re¬ 
main  bare  and  profitless  forever.” 

“  A  man  may  aspire,”  says  Beecher,  “  and  yet  be  quite 
content  until  it  is  time  to  rise  ;  and  both  flying  and 
resting  are  but  parts  of  one  contentment.” 

The  ideal  is  the  continual  image  that  is  cast  upon  the 
brain  ;  and  these  images  are  as  various  as  the  stars,  and, 
like  them,  differ  one  from  another  in  magnitude.  It  is 
the  quality  of  the  aspiration  that  determines  the  true 


ASPIRATION.  385 

success  or  failure  of  a  life.  A  man  may  aspire  to  be 
the  best  billiard-player,  the  best  jockey,  the  best  coach¬ 
man,  the  best  wardroom  politician,  the  best  gambler,  or 
the  most  cunning  cheat.  He  may  rise  to  be  eminent 
in  his  calling;  but,  compared  with  other  men,  his 
greatest  height  will  be  below  the  level  of  the  failure  of 
him  who  chooses  an  honest  profession.  Ho  jugglery 
of  thought,  no  gorgeousness  of  trappings  can  make 
the  low  high— the  dishonest  honest  — the  vile  pure. 
A.s  is  a  man’s  ideal  or  aspiration,  so  shall  his  life  be. 

Some  aspire  to  dress  better  than  their  neighbors,  and 
live  in  finer  houses,  and  drive  better  teams.  How 
many  women  are  as  frivolous  as  the  Empress  Anne  of 
luissia,  who  assembled  the  geniuses  of  her  empire  to 
build  a  palace  of  snow!  “But,”  says  Disraeli,  “the 
youth  who  does  not  look  up  will  look  down,  and  the 
spirit  that  does  not  soar  is  destined  perhaps  to  grovel.” 

“Every  man,”  says  Theodore  Parker,  “has  at  times 
in  his  mind  the  ideal  of  what  he  should  be,  but  is  not. 
In  all  men  that  seek  to  improve,  it  is  better  than  the 
actual  character.  Ho  one  is  so  satisfied  with  himself 

that  he  never  wishes  to  be  wiser,  better,  and  more 
holy.” 

What  a  discrepancy  there  is  between  what  we  are,  or 
what  we  appear  to  be,  and  what  we  long  to  be. 

“  Men  are  possessed  of  great  and  divine  ideas  and 
sentiments,”  said  Dewey,  “  and  to  paint  them,  sculpture 
them,  build  them  in  architecture,  sing  them  in  music, 
utter  them  in  eloquent  speech,  write  them  in  books,  in 
essays,  sermons,  poems,  dramas,  fictions,  philosophies, 
histories,  —  this  is  an  irresistible  impulse  of  human 
nature.” 

“  Ideality,”  says  Horace  Mann,  “  is  only  the  avant- 
courier  of  the  mind ;  and  where  that  in  a  healthy  and 
normal  state  goes,  I  hold  it  to  be  a  prophecy  that  reali¬ 
zation  can  follow.” 

“Every  really  able  man,  if  you  talk  sincerely  with 


886 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


him,”  says  Emerson,  “  considers  his  work,  however 
much  admired,  as  far  short  of  what  it  should  be.  What 
is  this  better,  this  flying  ideal,  but  the  perpetual  prom¬ 
ise  of  his  Creator  ?  ” 

“  Man  can  never  come  up  to  his  ideal  standard,”  says 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli.  “  It  is  the  nature  of  the  im¬ 
mortal  spirit  to  raise  that  standard  higher  and  higher 
as  it  goes  from  strength  to  strength,  still  upward  and 
onward.” 

“No  true  man  can  live  a  half  life,”  says  Phillips 
Brooks,  “  when  he  has  genuinely  learned  that  it  is  a 
half  life.  The  other  half,  the  higher  half,  must  haunt 
him.” 

“If  I  live,”  wrote  Bufus  Choate  in  his  diary  in 
September,  1844,  “  all  blockheads  which  are  shaken  at 
certain  mental  peculiarities  shall  know  and  feel  a 
reasoner,  a  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  business.” 

“  ’T  is  not  what  a  man  does  which  exalts  him,”  says 
Browning,  “but  what  man  would  do.” 

“It  seems  to  me  we  can  never  give  up  longing 
and  wishing  while  we  are  thoroughly  alive,”  says 
George  Eliot.  “  There  are  certain  things  we  feel  to 
be  beautiful  and  good,  and  we  must  hunger  after 
them.” 

“  The  flame  of  a  common  fire  casts  a  shadow  in  the  j 
path  of  a  kerosene  light,”  says  Emerson,  “  and  this  in  ' 
turn  casts  a  shadow  before  the  electric  flash.  The 
country  lad  is  satisfied  with  his  surroundings  until 
lie  goes  to  the  village  and  sees  the  store,  the  library, 
the  high  school.  This  satisfies  him  until  he  goes 
to  the  city.  The  village  lamp  puts  out  the  country 
light,  and  in  turn  is  extinguished  by  Boston  or  New 
York.” 

Our  longings  are  the  prophecies  of  our  destinies.  ! 
Life  never  wholly  fulfills  the  expectations  of  youthful 
hope.  The  future  can  never  pay  all  that  the  present 
promises.  Providence  holds  back  part  of  our  wages, 


ASPIRATION.  387 

lest  we .  quit  work.  The  prophecy  of  immortality  is 
written  in  our  yearnings. 

“  If  the  certainty  of  future  fame  bore  Milton  re¬ 
joicing  through  his  blindness,  or  cheered  Galileo  in 
his  dungeon/’  writes  Bulwer,  “  what  stronger  and  holier 
support  shall  not  be  given  to  him  who  has  loved  man¬ 
kind  as  his  biothers,  and  devoted  his  labors  to  their 
cause  ?  who  has  not  sought,  but  relinquished,  his  own 
renown?  —  who  has  braved  the  present  censures  of 
men  for  their  future  benefit,  and  trampled  upon  glory 
in  the  energy  of  benevolence  ?  Will  there  not  be  for 
him  something  more  powerful  than  fame  to  comfort  his 
sufferings  and  to  sustain  his  hopes  ?  ” 

The  ambition  that  comprehends  another’s  welfare 
first,  is  the  highest  we  can  have.  Such  is  the  secret  of 
Buskin’s  success,  and  of  the  sway  that  Frances  Willard 
holds  in  the  hearts  of  every  good  woman  in  America 
and  England.  Yet  to  have  one’s  name  on  the  lips  of 
men  is  not  a  worthy  ambition.  Some  fast  horses  and 
prize-fighters  are  better  known  than  those  who  have 
high  and  noble  ideals.  Every  one  knows  the  merits 
of  the  leading  contestants  in  international  yacht-races, 
but  only  a  few,  perhaps  only  one,  knows  the  merits 
of  him  or  her  who  surrendered  hope,  or  perhaps  life 
itself,  to  save  >a  home,  or  keep  a  son  from  the  poor- 
house,  or  to  reform  tenement  and  prison  methods. 

Of  necessity  the  above  illustrations  come  from  the 
lives  of  those  whom  the  world  delights  to  honor ;  but 
glory  is  rare  and  of  secondary  importance,  and  the  lack 
of  it  implies  no  thought  of  failure  in  the  judgment  of 
Him  who  looks  beneath  the  frame  into  the  heart — - 
who  understands  all  aspiration  —  and  who  measures 
with  honest  scales  the  fervor  which  the  soul  expends. 

O!  who  shall  lightly  say  that  Fame 
Is  nothing  but  an  empty  name, 

While  in  that  sound  there  is  a  charm 
The  nerves  to  brace,  the  heart  to  warm, 


388 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


As,  thinking  of  the  mighty  dead, 

The  young  from  slothful  couch  shall  start, 

And  vow,  with  lifted  hands  outspread, 

Like  them  to  act  a  noble  part  ? 

Joanna  Baillie 

“  I  wonder  if  ever  a  song  was  sung, 

But  the  singer’s  heart  sang  sweeter ! 

I  wonder  if  ever  a  hymn  was  rung, 

But  the  thought  surpassed  the  metre  \ 

I  wonder  if  ever  a  sculptor  wrought, 

Till  the  cold  stone  echoed  his  ardent  thought! 

Or  if  ever  a  painter,  with  light  and  shade, 

The  dream  of  his  inmost  heart  portrayed  !  ** 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE  ARMY  OP  THE  RESERVE. 

It  is  the  part  of  a  wise  man  to  keep  himself  to-day  for  to-morrow,  and 
Dot  to  venture  all  his  eggs  in  one  basket.  —  Cervantes. 

’T  is  good  in  every  case,  you  know, 

To  have  two  strings  unto  your  bow. 

Churchill. 

“In  a  word,  learn  taciturnity.  Let  that  be  your  motto.” 

Though  y'ou  had  the  wisdom  of  Newton,  or  the  wit  of  Swift,  garrulous¬ 
ness  would  lower  you  in  the  eyes  of  your  fellow  creatures.  — Burns. 

The  leaves  and  a  shell  of  soft  wood  are  all  that  the  vegetation  of  this 
summer  has  made,  but  the  solid  columnar  stem,  which  lifts  that  bank  of 
foliage  into  the  air  to  draw  the  eye  and  to  cool  us  with  its  shade,  is  the 
gift  and  legacy  of  dead  and  buried  years. —  Emerson. 

There  is  no  fault  nor  folly  of  my  life  which  does  not  rise  up  against  me, 
and  take  away  my  joy  and  shorten  my  power  of  possession,  of  sight,  of 
understanding.  And  every  past  effort  of  my  life,  every  gleam  of  right¬ 
ness  or  good  in  it,  is  with  me  now,  to  help  me  in  my  grasp  of  this  art  and 
its  vision.  —  Ruskin. 

Providence  is  always  on  the  side  of  the  last  reserve.  —  Napoleon  I. 

The  man  of  grit  carries  in  his  presence  a  power  which  spares  him  the 
necessity  of  resenting  insult.  —  E.  P.  Whipple. 

0,  the  toils  of  life ! 

How  small  they  seem  when  love’s  resistless  tide 
Sweeps  brightly  o’er  them  !  Like  the  scattered  stones 
Within  a  mountain  streamlet,  they  but  serve 
To  strike  the  hidden  music  from  its  flow, 

And  make  its  sparkle  visible. 

Anna  Katherine  Green. 

Phcebits  challenged  the  gods,  saying,  “  Who  will 
outshoot  the  far-darting  Apollo  ?  ”  “  I  will,”  said  Zeus. 

Mars  shook  the  lots,  the  first  falling  to  Apollo,  who 
stretched  his  bow  and  shot  an  arrow  into  the  farthest 
west.  With  one  stride  Zeus  cleared  the  whole  distance 
covered  by  his  rival’s  arrow,  and  asked,  “  Where  shall 
I  shoot  ?  There  is  no  room.”  He  was  awarded  the 
prize  by  the  acclamation  of  the  gods,  although  he  had 
&Qt  even  drawn  his  bow 


390 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


We  feel  that  Jove  must  have  performed  a  wonderful 
feat  of  archery  had  he  chosen  to  exert  his  power  to  the 
utmost.  We  have  a  similar  feeling  when  we  listen  to 
a  great  orator,  or  witness  the  deeds  of  any  person  of 
great  culture  or  sterling  character.  Such  people  excite 
in  us  an  anticipation  far  in  advance  of  their  perform* 
ances,  and  convince  us  by  what  they  say  or  do  that 
they  could  do  or  say  immeasurably  greater  things. 

Mirabeau  was  forty  years  old  before  he  showed  a  sign 
of  his  vast  knowledge  and  tact,  his  mighty  reserve,  and 
then  suddenly  became  the  greatest  orator  and  states¬ 
man  of  his  age.  His  public  career  lasted  but  twenty- 
three  months,  but  in  that  time  he  did  more  work  than 
most  great  men  accomplish  in  as  many  years.  “  Had  I 
not  lived  with  him,”  said  Dumont,  “  I  should  never 
have  had  any  idea  of  what  a  man  may  do  in  a  single 
day ;  what  business  may  be  transacted  in  the  course 
of  twelve  hours.  A  day  for  this  man  was  as  much  as'  a 
week  or  a  month  for  another.”  “  Impossible  !  ”  said  he, 
jumping  from  his  chair,  when  his  secretary  said  that 
something  was  impossible,  never  name  to  me  again 
that  blockhead’s  word.” 

It  is  the  reserve  corps  of  an  army  which  enables 
the  leader  to  strike  the  decisive  blow  when  the  critical 
moment  arrives.  It  is  the  heavy  balance-wheel  of  an 
engine  which  distributes  the  power  equally  and  in¬ 
sures  that  steadiness  of  motion  which  prevents  destruc¬ 
tive  shocks,  overcoming  resistance  that  would  stop  the 
piston  unaided  by  the  stored-up  momentum.  It  is  the 
knowledge,  experience,  and  character,  the  mental  and 
moral  wealth  which  you  have  accumulated  during  your 
whole  life,  that  measures  your  real  power  and  influence 
to-day ;  as  you  will  learn,  to  your  satisfaction  or  cha¬ 
grin,  when  you  are  subjected  to  any  severe  trial.  You 
can  draw  from  your  bank  of  learning  or  manhood  just 
what  you  have  stored  there,  not  an  ounce  more.  In  any 
3risis  you  must  stand  or  fall  by  your  reserve  power. 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE. 


391 


On  a  cold,  rainy  night  in  1823,  in  the  First  Baptist 
Church  of  Boston,  a  young  clergyman  preached  on  the 
“Moral  Dignity  of  the  Missionary  Enterprise.”  The 
sermon  seemed  to  awaken  no  interest  in  the  mind  of 
any  of  the  fifty  people  in  the  congregation,  and  the 
discouraged  preacher  considered  it  a  complete  failure. 
But  a  printer  in  the  audience  published  the  sermon  on 
account  of  its  earnestness,  and  it  at  once  attracted  wide 
attention  and  had  a  large  sale,  even  in  England. 
Robert  Hall  read  it  with  enthusiasm  and  predicted  a 
great  future  for  the  preacher,  then  an  obscure  young 
man.  Three  years  later  he  was  elected  President  Way- 
land  of  Brown  U niversity. 

In  the  latest  addresses  of  Beecher  was  still  felt  the 
momentum  gained  in  his  great  speeches  at  Manchester, 
Liverpool,  and  London.  A  life  of  struggle,  of  mingled 
defeat  and  triumph,  rolled  its  undercurrent  of  tone  to 
tinge  the  meaning  and  effect  of  Gough’s  ripened  utter¬ 
ances.  Forty  years  of  conquest  gave  weight  to  the 
words  of  Webster,  Choate,  Disraeli,  Gladstone,  long 
after  gray  hairs  had  told  of  the  approach  of  a  time 
when  their  eyes  should  be  dimmed  and  their  natural 
force  abated.  Bismarck,  out  of  office,  has  such  a  re¬ 
serve  power  that  even  an  attack  of  rheumatism  in  his 
feet  startles  Europe. 

“  0  Iole,  how  did  you  know  that  Hercules  was  a 
god  ?  ”  “  Because,”  said  Iole,  “  I  was  content  the  mo¬ 

ment  my  eyes  fell  upon  him.  When  I  beheld  Theseus, 
I  desired  that  I  might  see  him  offer  battle,  but  Her¬ 
cules  did  not  wait  for  a  contest :  he  conquered  whether 
he  stood,  or  walked,  or  sat,  or  whatever  thing  he  did.” 

"  One  day,”  said  a  noted  rope-walker,  “  I  signed  an 
agreement  to  wheel  a  barrow  along  a  rope  on  a  given 
day.  A  day  or  two  before  I  was  seized  with  lumbago. 
I  called  in  my  medical  man,  and  told  him  I  must  be 
cured  by  a  certain  day ;  not  only  because  I  should  lose 
what  I  hoped  to  earn,  but  also  forfeit  a  large  sum. 


392 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


“  I  got  no  better,  and  the  doctor  forbade  my  getting 
up.  I  told  him,  ‘  What  do  I  want  with  your  advice  ?  If 
you  cannot  cure  me,  of  what  good  is  your  advice  ? 9 

“  When  I  got  to  the  place,  there  was  the  doctor  pro¬ 
testing  I  was  unfit  for  the  exploit.  I  went  on,  though 
I  felt  like  a  frog  with  my  back.  I  got  ready  my  pole 
and  my  barrow,  took  hold  of  the  handles  and  wheeled 
it  along  the  rope  as  well  as  I  ever  did.  When  I  got  to 
the  end  I  wheeled  it  back  again,  and  when  this  was 
done  I  was  a  frog  again.  What  made  me  that  I  could 
wheel  the  barrow  ?  It  was  my  reserve-will.” 

“It  is  marvelous,  Monsieur  le  President,”  said  the 
Paris  correspondent  of  the  London  “  Times,”  to  Thiers, 
“  how  you  deliver  long  improvised  speeches  about  which 
you  have  not  had  time  to  reflect.”  “You  are  not  pay¬ 
ing  me  a  compliment,”  replied  the  President  of  the 
French  republic ;  “  it  is  criminal  in  a  statesman  to 
improvise  speeches  on  public  affairs.  The  speeches 
you  call  improvised  —  why,  for  fifty  years  I  have  been 
rising  at  five  in  the  morning  to  prepare  them  !  ” 

“  The  preparation  for  my  reply  to  Hayne,”  said 
Webster,  “was  made  upon  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Foote’s 
resolution  to  sell  the  public  lands.  Some  years  before 
that,  a  senator  from  Alabama  introduced  a  resolution 
into  the  Senate  proposing  to  cede  the  public  domains  to 
the  State  in  which  they  were  situated.  It  struck  me  at 
that  time  as  being  so  unfair  and  improper  that  I  imme¬ 
diately  prepared  an  article  to  resist  it.  My  argument 
embraced  the  whole  history  of  the  public  lands  and  the 
government’s  action  in  regard  to  them.  Then  there 
was  another  question  involved  in  the  Hayne  debate.  It 
was  as  to  the  right  and  practice  of  petition.  Mr. 
Calhoun  denied  the  right  of  petition  on  the  subject  of 
slavery.  Calhoun’s  doctrine  seemed  to  be  accepted, 
and  I  made  preparation  to  answer  his  proposition.  It 
so  happened  that  the  debate  did  not  take  place.  I  had 
my  notes  tucked  away  in  a  pigeon-hole,  and  when 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE.  893 

Hayne  made  that  attack  upon  me  and  upon  New  Eng* 
land,  I  was  already  posted,  and  only  had  to  take  down 
my  notes,  and  refresh  my  memory.  In  other  words,  if 
he  had  tried  to  make  a  speech  to  fit  my  notes,  he  would 
not  have  hit  it  better.  No  man  is  inspired  with  the  oc¬ 
casion.  I  never  was.” 

“  I  should  think,  if  you  can’t  break  that  block  in  ten 
blows,  you  can’t  do  it  in  a  hundred,”  said  Robert  Waters 
to  a  brawny-armed  quarryman  who  had  struck  forty 
blows  with  a  sledge  on  a  huge  piece  of  granite,  all  ap¬ 
parently  in  vain.  “  Oh,  yes,”  said  the  workman,  “  every 
blow  tells ;  ”  and  soon  the  granite  fell  asunder. 

“  We  marvel  at  the  skill  which  enables  a  great  artist 
to  take  a  little  color  that  lies  inert  upon  his  palette  — 
a  little  gray  and  brown  and  white  —  and  presently  to  so 
*  transfigure  it  into  a  living  presence  ’  that  our  hearts 
throb  faster  only  to  look  upon  it,  and  there  come  upon 
the  soul  all  those  influences  which  one  feels  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  Jungfrau  or  the  Matterhorn,  or  amid  the 
awful  solitudes  of  Mont  Blan<y.  But  back  of  that  ap¬ 
parent  ease  and  skill  are  the  years  of  struggle  and  effort 
and  application  which  have  conferred  the  envied  power.” 

“  What  though  the  fire  bursts  forth  at  length,”  said 
Dr.  Dewey,  “  like  volcanic  fires,  with  spontaneous, 
original,  native  force  ?  It  only  shows  the  intenser 
action  of  the  elements  beneath.  What  though  it  breaks 
like  lightning  from  the  cloud  ?  The  electric  force  had 
been  collecting  in  the  firmament  through  many  a  silent, 
calm,  and  clear  day.”  You  cannot  blaze  forth  in  action 
when  an  occasion  is  presented  unless  the  fire  has  long 
been  smouldering  within  you. 

It  is  with  a  feeling  akin  to  awe  that  we  gaze  upon  a 
huge  iceberg  towering  aloft  in  solitary  grandeur,  regard¬ 
less  alike  of  storm  or  calms,  and  responsive  only  to  tne 
deep  currents  of  the  ocean. 

How  majestically  it  sweeps  along,  how  gently  it 
pushes  aside  the  bubble  in  its  path,  yet  how  resistlessly 


394 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


it  crushes  the  stoutest  frigate,  as  if  it  were  an  eggshell. 
How  it  reminds  us  of  the  steady  ponderous  career  of  a 
great  man.  But  remember  that  the  iceberg  is  able  to 
hold  thus  to  its  stately  course  only  because  seven  eighths 
of  its  bulk  is  below  the  waves  that  make  ineffectual 
tumult  around  it.  So  the  weight  and  force  of  character 
of  great  men  are  hidden  from  the  casual  beholder. 

A  glass-blower  will  not  try  to  teach  difficult  prc 
cesses  to  any  one  who  has  not  been  engaged  in  the  busi 
ness  from  childhood.  He  must  have  the  reserve  which 
years  of  practice  give. 

“  I  treasure/’  says  Robert  Collyer,  of  New  York,  “  a 
small  drawing  by  Millais.  It  is  the  figure  of  a  woman 
bound  fast  to  a  pillar  far  within  tide-mark.  The  sea  is 
curling  its  waves  about  her  feet.  A  ship  is  passing  in 
full  sail,  but  not  heeding  her  or  her  doom.  Birds  of 
prey  are  hovering  about  her ;  but  she  heeds  not  the 
birds,  or  the  ship,  or  the  sea.  Her  eyes  look  right  on, 
and  her  feet  stand  firm,  and  you  see  that  she  is  looking 
directly  into  heaven,  and  telling  her  soul  how  the  suf¬ 
ferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  com¬ 
pared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed.  I  treasure 
ft  because,  when  I  look  at  it,  it  seems  a  type  of  a  great 
host  of  women  who  watch  and  wait,  tied  fast  to  their 
fate,  while  the  tide  creeps  up  about  them,  but  who  rise 
as  the  waves  rise,  and  on  the  crest  of  the  last  and  the 
loftiest  are  borne  into  the  quiet  haven,  and  hear  the 
i  Well  done  !  ’  ” 

“It  appears  to  me,”  said  Rear-Admiral  Hamilton  of 
the  British  navy,  referring  to  Farragut’s  prompt  order 
for  the  fleet  to  move  on  in  spite  of  the  torpedoes  that 
had  just  sunk  the  Tecumseh  in  Mobile  Bay,  “  that  a 
disastrous  defeat  was  converted  into  victory  by  (in  so 
unexpected  a  contingency)  the  quickness  of  eye  and 
power  of  rapid  decision  Farragut  possessed,  which 
saw  at  a  glance  the  only  escape  from  the  dilemma  the 
fleet  was  placed  in;  and  which  can  only  be  acquired  hy 


395 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE. 

a  thorough  practical  knowledge  in  the  management  of 
fleets,  and  for  want  of  which  no  amount  of  theoretical 
knowledge,  however  desirable  in  many  respects,  can 
make  up  in  the  moment  of  difficulty.”  The  knowledge 
and  skill  and  character  acquired  in  a  lifetime  of  faithful 
performance  of  duty  constituted  a  reserve  fund  upon 
which  he  drew  heavily  but  not  in  vain  when  his  oppor 
tunity  came. 

What  star  ever  shone  with  purer  light,  or  commanded 
more  admiration,  in  the  brilliant  court  of  France,  than 
the  plain,  republican,  but  cultivated,  Benjamin  Frank¬ 
lin  ?  Who  ever  rose  to  higher  influence  in  the  political 
circles  of  proud  England  than  Cromwell,  Eldon,  Burke, 
Canning,  and  Brougham  ?  To  what  did  they  owe  their 
vast  influence  but  to  great  intellectual  reserve  power, 
developed  by  slow  and  toilsome  cultivation  ? 

“  Where  did  you  get  that  story,  Mr.  Webster  ?  ” 
asked  a  man  who  had  been  deeply  impressed  by  an 
anecdote  related  by  the  great  orator.  “I  have  had  it 
laid  up  in  my  head  for  fourteen  years,  and  never  had 
a  chance  to  use  it  until  to-day,”  was  the  reply. 

When  the  Franco-Prussian  war  was  declared,  it  is 
said  that  Yon  Moltke  was  awakened  at  midnight  and 
told  of  the  fact.  He  said  coolly  to  the  official  who 
aroused  him,  “  Go  to  pigeon-hole  Ho.  —  in  my  safe, 
take  a  paper  from  it,  and  telegraph  as  there  directed  to 
the  different  troops  of  the  empire.”  He  then  turned 
over  and  went  to  sleep,  and  awoke  at  his  accustomed  ' 
hour  in  the  morning.  Every  one  else  in  Berlin  was 
much  excited,  but  Yon  Moltke  took  his  morning  walk  as 
usual,  and  a  friend  who  met  him  said :  “  General,  you 
seem  to  be  taking  it  very  easy.  Are  n’t  you  afraid  of 
the  situation  ?  I  should  think  you  would  be  busy.” 

“  Ah,”  replied  Yon  Moltke,  “  all  of  my  work  for  this 
time  has  been  done  long  beforehand  and  everything  that 
can  be  done  now  has  been  done.”  Moltke  had  been  dil¬ 
igently  storing  up  a  vast  reserve  for  half  a  century 


396 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


waiting  for  his  opportunity,  which  did  not  come  until 
his  hair  was  gray. 

When  Napoleon  unrolls  his  map,  the  eye  is  com¬ 
manded  by  original  power.  When  Chatham  leads  the 
debate,  men  may  well  listen,  because  they  must  listen. 
A  man  filled  with  the  stored-up  momentum  acquired 
from  years  of  careful  preparation,  is  acting ;  and  the 
ephemera  of  the  moment,  as  they  are  brushed  from  his 
path,  wonder  at  his  enormous  influence. 

Washington,  even  while  undergoing  the  tortures  of 
Valley  Forge,  was  persecuted  and  maligned.  Dr.  Ben¬ 
jamin  Bush  wrote  Patrick  Henry  that  the  soldiers  at 
Valley  Forge  had  no  head.  “ A  Gates,  a  Lee,  ora 
Conway,”  he  wrote,  “  would  in  a  few  weeks  render  them 
an  invincible  body  of  men.  Some  of  the  contents  of 
this  letter  ought  to  be  made  public,  in  order  to  awaken, 
enlighten,  and  alarm  our  country.”  But  the  brave 
Washington  bore  all  this  abuse  in  dignified  silence. 
What  a  mighty  reserve  power  he  possessed  in  his  great 
commanding  character  ! 

Napoleon  said  of  Massena  that  he  was  never  himself 
until  ruin  stared  him  in  the  face.  Then  the  sight  of 
the  dead  and  the  groans  of  the  dying  nerved  him  to  al¬ 
most  superhuman  energy,  and  he  marshaled  his  mighty 
army  of  the  reserve  to  the  front  with  a  will  that  sent 
terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  enemy. 

At  the  very  time  that  Luther  and  his  followers  were 
making  such  headway  in  Europe  in  opposing  the  Church 
of  Borne,  Ignatius  Loyola,  a  Spanish  soldier,  formed  the 
order  of  Jesuits  for  the  purpose  of  promulgating  the 
tenets  of  Catholicism.  No  obstacle  was  too  great  to  be 
overcome,  no  land  too  distant  to  be  reached,  no  danger 
too  appalling  to  be  encountered.  In  India,  China,  Japan, 
their  zealous  preaching  made  hosts  of  converts ;  in  Par¬ 
aguay  they  proselyted  200,000  natives ;  and  in  North 
America  they  traveled  from  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence 
to  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  The  world  was  large 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE.  897 

enough  for  both  Luther  and  Loyola,  and  the  reserve  of 
character  in  each  enabled  him  to  do  great  work  in  his 
own  way. 

After  singing,  as  never  before  sung,  the  sublime  music 
of  the  greatest  masters  to  an  audience  of  twenty  thorn 
sand  in  Castle  Garden,  New  York,  the  Swedish  Night¬ 
ingale  thought  of  the  hills  of  her  fatherland.  In  the  low 
tones  of  deepest  emotion  she  breathed  the  words,  * — 

u  ’Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam/* 

but  as  her  voice  thrilled  to  the  souls  of  the  listening 
thousands,  she  was  suddenly  silenced  by  a  storm  of 
applause,  while  tears  fell  like  rain  throughout  the  vast 
assembly. 

“I  intend  to  do  well  by  Ben  Lippincott,”  was  a 
frequent  remark  of  Stephen  Girard,  when  speaking  of 
a  favorite  clerk ;  so,  when  he  was  twenty-one,  Ben 
expected  to  hear  from  the  great  banker.  But  Girard 
seemed  to  talk  of  everything  else,  so  the  clerk  mustered 
courage,  and  said,  “I  suppose  I  am  free,  sir,  and  I 
thought  I  would  say  something  to  you  as  to  my  course  ; 
what  do  you  think  I  would  better  do  ?  ”  “  Yes,  I  know 
you  are,”  said  the  millionaire  ;  “and  my  advice  is  that 
you  go  and  learn  the  cooper’s  trade.”  This  was  like  ice  to 
Ben’s  budding  expectation,  but  he  said,  “  If  you  are  in 
earnest,  I  will  do  so.”  “I  am  in  earnest,”  was  Girard’s 
only  reply.  Seeking  the  best  cooper  in  Spring  Garden, 
Ben  served  his  apprenticeship  faithfully,  and  reported 
that  he  was  ready  to  begin  business.  “  Good,”  said 
Girard,  “  make  me  three  of  the  best  barrels  you  can  turn 
out.”  When  they  were  delivered,  the  banker  pro¬ 
nounced  them  first-rate,  and  asked  the  price.  “  One 
dollar,”  said  Ben,  “is  as  low  as  I  can  live  by.”  “Cleap 
enough  —  make  out  your  bill.”  Girard  settled  that  bill 
with  a  check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars,  saying, 
“There,  take  that,  and  invest  it  in  the  best  possible 
manner  j  and  if  you  are  unfortunate  and  lose  it,  you 


398 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


have  a  good  trade  to  fall  back  upon,  which  will  afford 
you  a  good  living.” 

You  wonder  what  is  the  use  of  this  thing  or  that 
which  your  parents  or  teachers  ask  you  to  learn.  Some¬ 
time  you  may  need  that  very'  thing.  It  may  be  ten 
years,  or  twenty,  before  you  find  the  right  place  for  it ; 
but  it  will  most  likely  be  just  what  you  will  want, 
sooner  or  later.  If  you  don’t  have  it,  you  will  be  like 
the  hunter  who  had  no  ball  in  his  rifle  when  a  bear  met 
him,  or  like  a  captain  who  suddenly  remembered  on  a 
lee  shore  that  he  had  left  his  cable  and  anchor  at  home. 

“  Twenty-five  years  ago  my  teacher  made  me  study 
surveying,”  said  a  man  who  had  lost  his  property,  “and 
now  I  am  glad  of  it.  It  is  just  in  place.  I  can  get  a 
good  situation  and  a  high  salary.” 

“He  who  rises  earlier  than  his  competitor,”  said 
David  Dudley  Field,  “  and  works  more  hours,  within 
the  limits  of  healthful  endurance,  will  carry  off  the 
prize.”  The  reserve  time  thus  gained,  if  only  an  hour 
a  day,  will  amount  to  nearly  three  years  out  of  the 
threescore  and  ten  vouchsafed  to  man. 

“  When  I  was  a  freshman  in  Williams  College,”  said 
James  A.  Garfield,  “  I  looked  out  one  night  and  saw  in 
the  window  of  my  only  competitor  for  first  place  in 
mathematics  a  light  twinkling  a  few  minutes  longer 
than  I  was  wont  to  keep  mine  burning.  I  then  and 
there  determined  to  invest  a  little  more  time  in  prepara¬ 
tion  for  the  next  day’s  recitation.  I  did  so,  and  passed 
above  my  rival.  I  smile  to-day  at  the  old  rivalry,  but  I 
am  thankful  for  the  way  my  attention  was  called  to  the 
value  of  a  little  margin  of  time,  well  employed.  I  have 
since  learned  that  it  is  just  such  a  margin,  whether  of 
time  or  attention  or  earnestness  or  power,  that  wins  in 
every  battle,  great  or  small.” 

Garfield  always  had  a  book  at  table,  and  would  asl* 
his  boys,  as  they  sat  about  him  in  the  home  at  Mentor, 
how  they  pronounced  certain  words  and  what  the  defini 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE, 


399 


tions  were.  He  asked  them  to  quote  from  this  and  that 
great  author,  and  in  a  sentence  to  serve  up  their 
opinions  concerning  eminent  men  and  women. 

Garfield  was  said  to  be  only  one  of  a  very  few  who 
kept  up  their  literary  studies  while  in  Washington. 
He  never  did  so  well  but  it  seemed  he  could  easily  do 
better.  As  Trevelyan  said  of  his  Parliamentary  hero, 
Garfield  succeeded  because  all  the  world  could  not  have 
kept  him  in  the  background,  and  because  once  in  the 
front  he  played  his  part  with  an  intrepidity  and  a  com¬ 
manding  ease  that  were  but  the  outward  symptoms  of 
the  immense  reserve  of  energy  on  which  it  was  in  his 
power  to  draw. 

“  If  I  hear  that  my  opponent  has  worked  the  wrist- 
machine  up  and  down  three  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
times,”  said  J ames  J.  Corbett,  “  I  try  to  go  a  few  better. 
If  he  jumps  the  rope  half  an  hour  steadily,  I  try  to 
make  it  an  hour.”  This  man  became  the  pugilistic 
champion  of  the  world. 

A  statue  of  Silence,  with  finger  on  its  lip,  has  a  mar¬ 
velous  effect  upon  every  visitor  to  a  library  in  Cincin¬ 
nati.  Its  power  is  felt  as  soon  as  the  eye  rests  upon  it. 
“  Speech  is  silvern,  Silence  is  golden ;  Speech  is  human, 
Silence,  divine.”  There  is  often  a  power  in  silence 
which  no  speech  can  equal. 

“  Is  there  not  something  sublime,”  asks  a  newspaper, 
“  in  a  hydraulic  crane  which  lifts  a  Titanic  engine  of 
destruction  weighing  a  hundred  tons  to  a  considerable 
height  with  as  noiseless  a  calm  and  as  much  absence  of 
apparent  stress  or  strain  as  if  it  had  been  a  boy  soldier’s 
pop-gun  ?  When  we  further  read  of  the  hydraulic 
monster  holding  up  its  terrible  burden  motionless  in 
mid-air  until  it  is  photographed,  and  then  lowering  it 
gently  and  quietly  on  a  sort  of  extemporized  cradle 
without  the  least  appearance  of  difficulty,  one  can 
readily  understand  that  the  mental  impression  produced 
on  the  bystanders  must  have  been  so  solemn  as  to  man- 


400 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


ifest  itself  in  most  eloquent  silence.”  In  an  English 
machine-shop  the  power  of  the  engine  is  so  stored  in  the 
momentum  of  a  ponderous  balance-wheel  that,  directed 
by  a  huge  cam,  it  drives  a  punch  through  one,  two,  or 
three  inches  of  steel  as  if  it  were  so  much  wax,  without 
perceptible  hesitation  or  tremor.  Visitors  look  on  in 
speechless  awe. 

It  is  said  that  on  the  single  evening  Emerson  spent  at 
Craigenputtoch  in  1833,  Carlyle  handed  him  a  pipe, 
lighted  one  himself,  and  then  the  two  sat  silent  until 
midnight,  when  they  parted,  shaking  hands  and  con¬ 
gratulating  each  other  upon  the  pleasant  evening  they 
had  passed.  “  The  silent  man  is  often  worth  listening 
to,”  says  the  Japanese  proverb. 

“  That  is  my  speech  !  That  is  my  speech  !  ”  said  the 
sculptor  Story,  each  time  touching  his  statue  of  George 
Peabody,  at  whose  unveiling  in  London  he  was  asked  to 
make  an  address. 

Every  great  orator  feels  but  too  conscious  that  he  has 
never  been  able  to  express  to  his  audience  the  rapture 
which  fired  his  soul.  He  feels  an  immense  Joss  in  the 
translation  of  the  divine  sentiment  which  wrought 
ecstasy  in  his  own  soul.  The  author,  too,  sees  visions 
which  the  pen  refuses  to  copy  or  describe.  In  plucking 
the  flower,  the  perfume  is  lost. 

To  one  admiring  his  statue,  the  Flemish  sculptor 
Huquesne  said,  pointing  to  his  forehead,  “Ah !  if  you 
could  but  see  the  one  which  is  here  !  ”  Voltaire  said 
that  he  never  wrote  anything  which  satisfied  him,  there 
was  such  a  discrepancy  between  his  ideal  and  what  he 
accomplished.  Vergil  Avished  to  burn  the  iEneid  after 
working  upon  it  for  eleven  years. 

The  artist  cannot  transfer  to  canvas  the  most  delicate 
touches  of  nature  upon  the  human  face.  There  is  an 
indescribable  something  which  all  feel  but  no  poet  can 
portray.  The  finest  part  of  a  landscape  is  never  delin 
eated.  The  writer  cannot  draw  from  his  brain  his 


i 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE.  401 

choicest  sentiments.  They  elude  the  pen  and  will  not 
stay  in  words.  They  evaporate  from  the  choicest  lan¬ 
guage  and  will  not  allow  themselves  to  be  expressed. 
But  they  are  suggested  to  us  in  the  works  of  the  mas¬ 
ters,  and  it  is  in  this  suggestive  force  of  their  produc¬ 
tions  rather  than  in  what  they  have  really  done  or  said 
that  their  remarkable  power  lies. 

Tears  cannot  drain  the  deepest  sorrow.  Words  can 
not  express  the  finest  sentiments  of  the  heart. 

It  is  roughly  estimated  that  the  steam-power  of 
Great  Britain  is  equal  to  the  united  strength  of  1,000,- 
000,000  men.  The  number  of  persons  employed  in  her 
coal  mines  is  but  200,000,  and  of  these  fully  two  thirds 
dig  coal  for  other  uses  than  for  engines,  leaving  66,666 
men  to  mine  the  coal  necessary  to  do  the  work  of  1,000,- 
000,000.  The  engines  are  made  by  60,000  men,  so  that 
126,666  men  furnish  the  means  of  doing  the  work  of 
1,000,000,000,  the  strength  of  each  being  thus  multi¬ 
plied  nearly  eight  thousand  times.  This  gives  to  each 
man,  woman,  and  child  of  a  population  of  35,000,000, 
some  thirty  willing  slaves,  born  fully  grown,  exempt 
from  sickness,  needing  no  clothes,  eating  only  fire  and 
water,  and  costing  merely  the  work  of  one  man  in  eight 
thousand.  It  is  this  reserve  power  of  steam  which 
makes  certain  the  supremacy  of  Britain  in  the  industrial 
contest  with  such  countries  as  Ireland,  Spain,  Portugal, 
Turkey,  Brazil,  Mexico,  Argentina,  India,  Jamaica, 
China,  and  Japan.  Herein  lies  the  real  reserve  which 
reinforces  her  bayonets  in  every  war  she  wages.  Too 
late,  Napoleon  learned  this  at  St.  Helena,  saying,  “  Great 
Britain  conquered  me  not  with  her  swords  but  with  her 
spindles ;  with  her  spindles  she  subsidized  all  Europe, 
and  here  I  am.”  He  was  right,  but  the  real  power  was 
in  the  steam-engines  that  drove  those  spindles,  and 
that  energy,  obtained  from  the  coal,  really  came  from 
tiny  sunbeams  stored  up  ages  ago  in  the  leaves  and 
stems  of  plants.  Pitt,  with  all  his  layish  expenditures 


402 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


could  not  squander  the  wealth,  of  Great  Britain  as  fast 
as  it  was  created  by  the  genius  of  Watt,  long  since  dead. 
It  is  industry  at  home  that  makes  legions  victorious 
abroad.  A  nation  with  such  a  reservoir  of  capital  is 
like  a  Niagara  river  with  its  chain  of  inland  seas  behind 
and  sweeps  everything  before  it  in  the  cataract  of  war. 
Only  when  it  meets  a  greater  reserve,  like  the  spirit  cf 
liberty  in  the  breasts  of  the  American  colonists,  is  it 
swept  backward,  even  as  the  winds  sometimes  roll  the 
waters  of  Lake  Erie  back  upon  themselves,  and  for  a 
time  lessen  the  power  of  Niagara. 

He  who  has  occupied  his  leisure  moments  in  earnest, 
faithful  study,  will  have  large  stores  in  reserve  upon 
which  to  draw  in  any  emergency.  After  his  answer  to 
Hay  lie,  Webster  is  reported  to  have  said,  “I  felt  as  if 
everything  I  had  ever  seen  or  read  or  heard  was  float¬ 
ing  before  me  in  one  grand  panorama,  and  I  had  little 
else  to  do  than  to  reach  up  and  cull  a  thunderbolt  and 
hurl  it  at  him.”  It  was  his  custom  in  studying  to  de¬ 
vote  all  his  faculties  to  the  work  before  him  until  he 
felt  fatigue,  and  then  rest.  In  this  way  he  acquired 
the  power  of  doing  in  one  day  what  would  seem  a  hard 
week’s  work  to  many  able  lawyers. 

Back  of  the  preparation  for  any  career  should  lie  the 
habit  of  wholeness  of  mind  and  conscience  which  can 
alone  insure  the  highest  success  in  that  career.  Opie 
mixed  his  colors  with  brains.  Hugh  Miller  said  that 
the  mason  of  whom  he  learned  his  trade  put  his  whole 
soul  into  every  brick  that  he  laid.  Of  Francis  Horner,  a 
man  of  medium  ability  but  of  unequaled  influence,  it  was 
said  that  the  Ten  Commandments  were  stamped  upon 
his  countenance.  Such  men  of  steadfast  character  in 
all  trials  are  “  like  great  ships  upon  November  seas, 
when  winds  are  gruff  and  waters  in  rebellion.  While 
other  men,  like  fishing-smacks  and  shallops,  crank  and 
unsteady,  must  watch  each  flaw  and  gust  of  wind  lest 
suddenly  they  be  caught  and  whelmed,  these  spread  a 


the  army  of  the  reserve.  403 

bellying  sail  upon  a  moveless  yard,  and  heedless  of 
cross-currents  drive  onward  to  their  home.” 

What  reserve  power  to  bless  or  ban  lies  in  the  affec¬ 
tions  and  passions  of  man  !  Even  brutes  show  the  might 
of  love  and  gratitude  or  their  opposites.  Androcles  hid 
himself  in  a  cave,  where  he  saw  a  lion  which  seemed 
vevy  lame.  Walking  up  to  the  beast,  he  gently  lifted 
his  paw,  and  took  out  a  splinter.  The  animal  seemed 
very  grateful.  Later,  Androcles  was  captured  and  de¬ 
livered  to  wild  beasts  in  the  arena  of  the  Colosseum. 
A  lion  let  loose  to  devour  him  sprang  forward  with  a 
hollow  roar,  but  recognized  Androcles  as  one  who  had 
relieved  his  suffering,  and  fawned  at  his  feet. 

“  Gentlemen,”  said  one  of  three  ladies,  rudely  bantered 
by  one  hundred  and  fifty  young  men  while  all  were  wait¬ 
ing  the  tardy  arrival  of  the  lecturer  at  a  medical  clinic, 
11 1  have  been  for  eighteen  years  a  missionary  in  China. 
The  Chinese  have  no  medical  science,  and  superstitious 
rites  are  chiefly  relied  on  in  the  treatment  of  disease. 
All  the  people  are  in  need  of  medical  aid,  but  the 
women  are  the  neediest.  A  Chinese  woman  would  un¬ 
der  no  circumstances  go  to  a  male  physician  for  the 
treatment  of  any  disease  peculiar  to  her  sex.  She 
would  be  prevented  by  her  womanly  delicacy,  and  by  all 
the  notions  of  modesty  held  by  those  around  her.  She 
would  suffer  lifelong  agony  rather  than  violate  her 
sense  of  prc/priety.  Her  father,  her  brothers,  and  her 
husband  would  even  let  her  die  rather  than  allow  her  to 
be  treated  by  a  male  physician.  Full  of  sorrow  for  the 
sufferings  of  these  women,  I  have  been  looking  to 
Christian  America  to  see  what  hope  of  help  for  them 
might  be  there.  I  have  been  glad  to  find  that,  in  some 
of  our  great  medical  schools,  earnest  and  self-sacrificing 
women  are  fitting  themselves  for  a  work  of  mercy  in 
Asia  and  other  lands.  Unless  such  women  learn  to  do 
such  work  well  there  is  no  physical  salvation  for  those 
afflicted  ones.  And  in  behalf  of  those  women,  who  have 


404 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


no  medical  care  while  they  so  sorely  need  it,  I  ask  from 
you  the  courtesy  of  gentlemen  toward  ladies  who  are 
studying  medicine  in  Philadelphia.”  A  cheer  from  the 
young  men  followed  the  remarks,  and  one  student  as¬ 
sured  the  ladies  that  they  should  be  annoyed  no  more. 
The  native  manliness  of  the  youths  was  a  corps  in 
reserve  which,  when  called  upon,  conquered  all  their 
coarseness  and  vulgarity. 

There  is  a  reserve  in  every  man  greater  than  anything 
he  ever  exhibits.  There  is  a  hero  in  the  biggest  coward 
which  an  emergency  great  and  critical  enough  would 
call  forth.  Heroic  acts  are  just  what  every  man  in¬ 
tends  to  perform. 

The  memory  of  misspent  years  should  not  hang  like 
a  millstone  about  your  neck ;  so  long  as  you  have  a  de¬ 
sire  for  better  things,  you  still  have  in  reserve,  greater 
or  less  in  proportion  to  the  earnestness  of  your  aspira¬ 
tion,  the  very  power  you  need  in  attaining  what  you 
seek.  Thousands  of  bad  boys  have  changed  their  course 
radically  and  become  good  and  useful  men.  The  ablest 
cardinal  and  statesman  of  France  in  his  day  was  known 
as  the  incorrigible  boy  Richelieu.  Mazarin,  when  young, 
was  a  reckless  gambler.  l)umas  was  a  worthless,  idle 
boy.  St.  Augustine  was  called  a  reprobate  when  a  boy. 
Whitefield,  the  great  preacher,  was  a  thief  when  young, 
and  his  mother  kept  a  public-house.  President  Thiers 
was  the  worst  pupil  in  school;  he  would  strike  his 
teacher  when  angry,  and  no  punishment  awed  him. 
All  at  once  he  changed  his  course,  and  determined  to 
become  President  of  France,  although  he  was  very  poor. 
Great  men  are  but  common  men  more  fully  developed 
and  ripened. 

He  who  does  his  best  will  find  himself  aided  at  an  un¬ 
expected  moment  by  another  self  in  reserve,  the  reflex 
action  of  the  brain.  Many  a  mathematician,  falling 
asleep  in  a  vain  effort  to  solve  some  intricate  problem, 
has  awakened  to  find  the  solution  at  his  tongue’s  end. 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE \ 


405 


On  the  plains  of  Ephesus,  Chersiphoron  had  placed  the 
solid  jambs  on  either  side  of  the  door  to  the  temple  of 
Artemis,  and  had  exhausted  every  expedient  trying  to 
place  thereon  the  ponderous  lintel,  when,  in  sleep,  the 
goddess  told  him  his  work  was  done,  and  he  awoke  to 
find  it  so. 

From  the  grave  of  every  martyr  emanates  an  in¬ 
fluence  greater  far  than  he  ever  exerted  in  life.  “  The 
cause  thou  tightest  for,”  says  Carlyle,  “so  far  as  it  is 
true,  no  further,  yet  precisely  so  far,  is  very  sure  of 
victory.  The  falsehood  alone  of  it  will  be  conquered, 
will  be  abolished,  as  it  ought  to  be ;  but  the  truth  of  it 
is  part  of  Nature’s  own  laws,  cooperates  with  the 
world’s  eternal  tendencies,  and  cannot  be  conquered.” 

Nature  works  continually  by  utilizing  reserves. 
Nothing  is  ever  lost  in  the  material  or  spiritual  world. 
Our  fires  to-day  give  back  in  heat  and  light  the  exact 
amount  absorbed  by  tree  or  plant  from  the  sun  ages 
ago.  The  present  generation  is  fed  by  the  decomposi¬ 
tion  of  the  preceding. 

The  best  of  every  man’s  work  is  abov^  and  beyond 
himself,  and  is  accomplished  in  the  struggle  to  attain  a 
lofty  ideal.  The  artist  stands  aside  and  points  through 
his  work  to  a  glimpse  of  the  universal  art.  In  his  in¬ 
spired  moments  the  individuality  of  the  orator  is  melted 
and  fused  into  the  all-pervading  fire  of  eloquence.  The 
gods  will  help  us,  but  we  must  go  their  way.  We  must 
move  along  the  line  of  absolute  truth  or  they  will  leave 
us  to  our  own  devices. 

Amid  the  alternating  high  and  low  barometer,  gloom 
and  gayety,  enthusiasm  and  discouragement,  freshness 
and  fatigue  of  our  physical  and  mental  environment,  we 
cannot  always  be  at  our  best. 

“  But  tasks  in  hours  of  sunshine  willed 
May  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled.’* 

“How  strange  it  seems,”  said  W.  J.  Tilley,  “that 
$ome  of  the  most  wonderful  and  most  useful  inventions 


406 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT, 


in  the  world  to-day  were  apparently  lying  in  ambush 
beside  the  very  pathway  where  thousands  of  human 
feet  have  trod,  and  remained,  for  years,  all  undiscovered 
and  unknown.”  They  waited  but  for  an  eye  that  could 
see  nature’s  vast  reserves. 

Men  have  groped  in  physical  darkness  for  ages  while 
walking  above  untold  barrels  of  petroleum,  and  have 
crossed  oceans  to  carry  messages  which  a  slender  wire 
would  have  delivered  in  a  minute.  Muscle  has  been 
hewing  wood  and  drawing  water,  while  coal  and  electri¬ 
city  have  tried  in  vain  to  tell  us  that  they  were  destined 
to  emancipate  man  from  the  world’s  drudgery  and  allow 
him  to  develop  his  higher  powers. 

We  call  a  man  like  Shakespeare  a  genius,  not  because 
he  makes  new  discoveries,  but  because  he  shows  us  to 
ourselves ;  shows  us  the  great  reserve  in  us  which,  like 
the  oil-fields,  awaited  a  discoverer ;  because  he  says  that 
which  we  had  thought  or  felt,  but  could  not  express. 
Genius  merely  holds  the  glass  up  to  nature.  We  can 
never  see  in  the  world  what  we  do  not  first  have  in  our¬ 
selves.  The  hemisphere  of  our  vision  is  really  the 
dome  enshrining  our  minds,  and  is  greater  or  less 
according  to  the  sweep  of  our  thought,  even  as  without 
or  within  any  circumference  other  circumferences  may 
be  drawn  without  change  of  centre.  Man  is  the  whole 
of  which  all  the  things  he  sees  without  are  but  parts,  — 
segments  of  a  curve  which  circle  themselves  in  his  own 
soul.  We  see  but  the  shadow  of  which  we  are  the  sub¬ 
stance.  Emerson  says  that  the  god  of  a  cannibal  will 
be  a  cannibal,  of  the  crusader  a  crusader,  and  of  the 
merchant  a  merchant.  Beneath  its  apparent  levity 
there  is  a  vital  truth  in  Andrew  Jackson  Davis’s  saying 
that  an  honest  God  is  the  noblest  work  of  man;  for  oui 
ideals  show  what  we  are. 

Not  least  among  our  forces  in  reserve  are  those  which 
come  from  that  “  facility  and  inclination,  acquired  by 
repetition,”  which  we  call  habit.  Any  occupation  i* 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE. 


407 


easiest  to  him  who  has  familiarized  himself  with  its 
processes  by  repeated  practice,  and  he  who  has  become 
most  familiar  with  those  processes  is  most  likely  to 
succeed  therein.  As  men  acquire  greater  and  greater 
skill  in  the  various  trades  or  professions,  it  becomes 
more  and  more  difficult  for  one  to  do  many  kinds  of 
work  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  in  competition  with 
others.  Jacks-of-all-trades  are  becoming  scarcer  as  we 
advance  in  civilization.  We  must  concentrate  our 
energies  to  definite  purposes  in  proportion  as  we  wish 
to  excel.  “  I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are 
guided/’  said  Patrick  Henry,  “  and  that  is  the  lamp  of 
experience.” 

Even  the  most  refined  civilization  would  be  impos¬ 
sible  but  for  the  reserves  of  rugged  men  of  ruder  man¬ 
ners  from  which  to  constantly  recruit  its  ever  wasting 
forces. 

In  1806,  it  is  said,  every  legitimate  monarch  in 
Europe  was  imbecile.  The  city  would  have  died  out, 
rotted,  and  exploded  long  ago,  but  that  it  was  reinforced 
from  the  fields.  It  is  only  country  that  came  to  town 
day  before  yesterday  that  is  city  and  court  to-day.  The 
country  is  the  great  reserve  of  civilization. 

Hot  what  men  do,  but  what  their  lives  promise  and 
prophesy,  gives  hope  to  the  race.  To  keep  us  from  dis¬ 
couragement,  Nature  now  and  then  sends  us  a  Washing¬ 
ton,  a  Lincoln,  a  Kossuth,  a  Gladstone,  towering  above 
his  fellows,  to  show  us  she  has  not  lost  her  ideal. 

We  enter  upon  life  with  a  physical  reserve  called  the 
vital  force,  a  mental  reserve  known  as  enterprise,  and, 
above  all,  a  moral  reserve  of  conscience,  from  con , 
*•  with,”  and  scio,  “  I  know ;  ”  literally,  what  we  know 
with  God.  “  Endeavor  to  keep  alive  in  your  breast,” 
said  Washington,  “that  spark  of  heavenly  fire  called 
conscience.”  This  inward  monitor  is  akin  to  that  in¬ 
stinct  which  prompts  the  bird  to  seek  the  South  as  a 
refuge  from  the  winter  that  would  kill  itj  which  per* 


40b 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


suades  the  squirrel  to  bury  nuts  and  the  bee  to  store 
honey  to  keep  them  alive  when  trees  are  bare  and 
flowers  are  dead.  Whatever  our  creed,  we  feel  that  no 
good  deed  can  by  any  possibility  go  unrewarded,  no  evil 
deed  unpunished.  Every  one  is  conscious  that  there 
are  little  demons  in  the  background  of  his  life  which 
only  wait  an  opportunity  to  come  forward  and  disgrace 
him ;  such  as  fault-finding,  envy,  hatred,  slander,  irrita- 
bility,  sarcasm,  back-biting,  and  revenge.  These  are 
microbes  or  germs  which  lie  dormant  in  the  character 
until  the  moral  health-line  is  so  reduced  that  they  de¬ 
velop  in  the  filth  and  miasma  of  a  degraded  soul.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  consciousness  of  the  grand  reserve 
of  a  noble  past  gives  confidence  and  strength  to-day. 
The  memory  of  the  good  we  have  done  inspires  and  en¬ 
courages  us  to  worthy  endeavor. 

The  whole  creation  thunders  the  Ten  Command¬ 
ments.  The  very  atoms  seem  to  have  been  dipped  in  a 
moral  solution.  There  is  a  moral  tendency  in  the 
nature  of  things.  It  looks  out  of  the  flowers,  it  shines 
from  the  stars.  It  grows  in  the  forest,  it  waves  in  the 
grass,  it  laughs  in  the  harvest.  Each  form  of  existence 
brings  from  the  unseen  its  own  little  lesson  of  wisdom, 
goodness,  power,  design,  and  points  to  something  higher 
than  itself,  the  great  Author  of  its  magnificence.  But 
while  we  see  this  moral  tendency  in  the  works  of  na¬ 
ture,  we  find  this  great  moral  reserve  strongly  empha¬ 
sized  in  man,  who  has  a  sort  of  instinctive  faith  that 
somehow,  somewhere,  nature  will  rid  herself  of  the  last 
crime,  and  restore  the  lost  Paradise  of  Eden. 

“  These  rules  were  writ  in  human  hearts, 

By  Him  who  built  the  day, 

The  columns  of  the  universe 
No  firmer  based  than  they.” 

Man  finds  himself  on  a  limitless  ocean  with  no  know- 
ledge  of  whence  he  came  or  whither  he  shall  go.  All  he 
knows  is,  that  a  Hand  he  has  never  seen  has  traced  the 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  RESERVE.  409 

Golden  Buie  upon  Lis  heart,  hung  a  chart  in  his  soul, 
and  placed  a  compass  in  his  hand.  He  is  also  conscious 
of  a  pilot  at  the  helm,  never  seen  but  always  there  ;  an 
angel  commissioned  at  his  birth  to  pilot  his  frail  bark 
across  the  uncertain  waters  of  life,  and  that  conscious¬ 
ness  is  his  reserve  power. 

We  may  try  to  stifle  the  voice  of  the  mysterious 
angel  within,  but  it  always  says  “  Yes  ”  to  right  ac¬ 
tions,  and  “No”  to  wrong  ones.  No  matter  whether 
we  heed  it  or  not,  no  power  can  change  its  decision  one 
iota.  Thiough  health,  through  disease,  through  pros¬ 
perity  and  adversity,  beyond  the  reach  of  bribery  or 
influence,  this  faithful  servant  stands  behind  us  in  the 
shadow  of  ourselves,  never  intruding,  but  weighing 
every  act  we  perform,  every  word  we  utter,  pronouncing 
the  verdict  “  right  ”  or  “  wrong.” 

“  Virtue  has  resources  buried  in  itself,  which  we 
know  not,”  says  Bulwer,  “till  the  invading  hour  calls 
them  from  their  retreats.  Surrounded  by  hosts  with¬ 
out,  and  when  Nature  itself,  turned  traitor,  is  its  most 
deadly  enemy  within,  it  assumes  a  new  and  a  super¬ 
human  power  which  is  greater  than  Nature  itself. 
Whatever  be  its  creed  —  whatever  be  its  sect  —  from 
whatever  segment  of  the  globe  its  visions  arise,  Virtue 
is  God’s  empire,  and  from  this  throne  of  thrones  He 
will  defend  it.  Though  cast  into  the  distant  earth,  and 
struggling  on  the  dim  arena  of  a  human  heart,  all 
things  above  are  spectators  of  its  conflict,  or  enlisted  in 
its  cause.  The  angels  have  their  charge  over  it  —  the 
banners  of  archangels  are  on  its  side,  and  from  sphere 
to  sphere,  through  the  illimitable  ether,  and  round  the 
impenetrable  darkness  at  the  feet  of  God,  its  triumph 
is  hymned  by  harps  which  are  strung  to  the  glories  of 
the  Creator  !  ” 

In  London,  June,  1801,  Benedict  Arnold  sits  dying. 
In  response  to  a  feeble  request,  the  attendant  aids  him 
to  don  a  faded  Continental  uniform.  The  shadow  of 


410 


PUSHING  TO  THE  FRONT. 


death  hovers  above  the  execrated  traitor,  and  mortal 
pangs  rack  his  emaciated  frame ;  but  no  sigh  or  groan 
comes  from  his  bloodless  lips,  for  his  glazing  eyes  are 
fixed  upon  those  treasured  garments  and  his  mind  is 
busy  with  the  past.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  he  stands 
with  Allen  at  Ticonderoga.  Through  the  trackless 
northern  wilderness  he  leads  liis  determined  band,  and 
his  haughty  voice  summons  astonished  Quebec  to  sur 
render.  The  woods  of  Valcour  Island  reverberate  with 
the  thunders  of  his  cannon,  and  from  his  strategy  at 
Fort  Schuyler  the  dusky  hosts  of  St.  Leger  scatter  like 
dry  leaves  before  the  hurricane.  At  Stillwater,  in 
September,  his  spirit  animates  the  army  which  Horatio 
Gates  commands;  and  up  Bemis  Heights  in  October 
his  coal-black  steed  -  leads  to  glorious  victory  over  the 
far-famed  legionaries  of  Burgoyne.  Treason  and  dis¬ 
grace  are  forgotten,  neglect  and  injury  forgiven  ;  hon¬ 
ored  and  respected  he  stands  once  more  a  giant  among 
his  brother  officers  in  the  cause  of  liberty ;  and  thus, 
while  reenacting  bygone  scenes,  his  spirit  passes  from 
earth. 

Oh,  the  reserve  power  of  noble  thoughts  —  of  noble 
deeds  !  Not  subsequent  misery  nor  crime,  not  degra¬ 
dation,  not  death  itself,  can  rob  them  of  their  influence 
upon  us ;  and  through  the  long  future  of  eternity  what¬ 
ever  is  ours  of  ecstasy  will  be  augmented,  whatever  is 
ours  of  agony  will  be  diminished,  by  their  recollection 
and  their  reward. 


INDEX. 


Accuracy,  enamored  of.  273. 

Acts,  “  our  angels  are,”  303. 

Adams,  J.  Q.,  his  punctuality,  69, 130. 
Addison  on  luck,  330. 
iEsop,  monument  erected  to,  28. 
Agassiz,  Louis,  too  great  to  make  money, 
219  ;  power  of  observation,  284. 

Age,  how  to  retard  it,  370 ;  its  enthusi¬ 
asm,  184. 

Alcohol,  Dr.  Richardson  on,  364. 
Andersen,  Hans  Christian,  26. 

Andrew,  John  A.,  his  promptness,  122. 
Androcles  and  the  lion,  403. 

Angelo,  Michael,  80 ;  his  industry,  234, 
242,  380 ;  his  study  of  anatomy,  284  ; 
his  statue  of  snow,  302. 

An  iron  will,  55. 

Anne,  Empress  of  Russia,  and  her  snow 
palace,  385. 

Annihilation,  working  for,  303. 

Anxiety,  a  disease,  141,  143. 

Apelles,  his  goddess  of  beauty,  155. 
Aquetil  and  Bonaparte,  329. 

Ariosto  and  his  persistence,  353. 
Aristocracy,  nature’s,  247. 

Arkwright,  Richard,  79  ;  his  industry, 
244. 

Armour,  Philip,  his  career,  14. 

Arnold,  Benedict,  his  dying  vision,  409. 
Art  and  corruption,  226. 

Arthur,  Chester  A.,  his  politeness,  151. 
Aspiration,  375. 

Astor,  J.  J.,  a  failure,  79,  99,  200,  226. 
Audubon,  his  persistency,  245,  351. 

Bancroft,  his  perseverance,  342. 
Bankruptcy,  248. 

Barnum,  P.  T.,  51 ;  and  the  American 
Museum,  324. 

Barrows,  Isaac,  87. 

Basle,  the  Monk,  his  great  politeness, 
148. 

Bauer,  General,  328. 

Baxter,  Richard,  on  saving  time,  69. 

Be  brief,  372. 

Beecher,  H.  W.,  and  “  the  dew-drop,” 
292  ;  on  defeat,  307  ;  his  cheerfulness, 
138 ;  his  tact,  197 ;  determination,  242 ; 
on  aspiration,  378,  384. 

Beethoven,  179,  283. 

Beimett,  James  Gordon,  his  struggles, 31. 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  71. 

Berry,  Captain,  5. 

Birkenhead,  the  English  ship,  316. 
Bismarck,  160. 

Bliiclier,  General,  130;  his  determina¬ 
tion,  244. 


Boy  slavery,  78. 

Boys,  round,  in  square  holes,  74. 

Boys  with  no  chance,  25. 

Bright,  John,  42. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  on  occupation,  98 ;  troe 
greatness,  231  ;  on  aspiration,  386. 

Brougham,  Lord,  71,  130 ;  lack  of  con¬ 
centration,  115. 

Brown,  John,  48. 

Bryant  on  patience,  355. 

Budgett,  Samuel,  70. 

Bunyan,  182. 

Burke,  Edmund,  his  power,  254 ;  on 
patience,  354. 

Burr,  Aaron,  his  politeness,  56;  148. 

Burritt,  Elihu,  36,  65. 

Butler,  Bishop,  and  his  persistency,  353. 

Butler,  General,  and  his  colored  soldiers, 
258. 

Buxton,  Fowell,  on  one  unwavering  aim, 
116. 

Byron,  87 ;  on  Dante,  268 ;  on  thirst  for 
gold,  218. 

Caesar,  8, 70,  122 ;  and  the  pirates,  319 ; 
self-confidence,  205  ;  influence  of,  over 
Romans,  263. 

Calhoun,  John  C.,  his  self-confidence. 
205. 

Calling,  be  greater  than,  104. 

Calvin,  John,  his  dyspepsia,  144.  A 

Campbell,  Lord,  239,  “  must  work  hardeil 
than  others.”  * 

Canova,  Antonio,  10. 

Carelessness,  287. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  his  courage,  244;  on 
persistence,  339  ;  on  one  aim,  108 ; 
his  gruffness,  152. 

Carlyle  and  Emerson,  their  silence,  400 
on  truth,  405. 

Catharine  of  Russia,  her  rules  of  eti¬ 
quette,  153. 

Cato,  his  three  regrets,  72. 

Cavanaugh,  A.  M.,  M.  P.,  his  charming 
manner,  150. 

Chapel,  Sistine,  243. 

Character  is  power,  250,  263 ;  is  success, 
226,  250,  316 ;  is  protection,  256 ;  the 
poor  man’s  capital,  272  ;  always 
known,  272. 

Chateaubriand  on  Washington,  267. 

Chatham,  Lord,  262. 

Cheerfulness  and  longevity,  133. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  156. 

Cliickering,  Jonas,  his  precision,  289. 

Childs,  George  W.,  32;  his  character 
229. 


412 


INDEX. 


Chitty,  241. 

Choate,  Rufus,  his  irresistible  manner, 
59,  150 ;  power  of  concentration,  114, 
118  ;  his  carefulness,  282  ;  his  brevity, 
372,  386. 

Christ,  his  cheerful,  sunny  religion,  145. 

Cicero,  his  economy  of  time,  70 ;  true 
nobility,  210  ;  on  disagreeable  occupa¬ 
tions,  237. 

Cid,  the,  physical  power  of,  359. 

Cincinnatus,  Quintius,  256. 

Clark,  Alvan,  his  accuracy,  281. 

Clay,  Henry,  45 ;  his  graceful  manner, 
150  ;  his  concentration,  171 ;  his  ora¬ 
tory,  235. 

Cleveland,  Grover,  on  luck,  335. 

Clive,  Robert,  87. 

Cobbett,  William,  “  always  ready,”  33, 
124. 


Cobden,  Richard,  42  ;  on  luck,  335  ;  his 
determination,  242. 

Coffin,  C.  C.,  on  Columbus,  346. 

Colbert,  “  the  greatness  of  a  country 
depends  on  the  character  of  its  peo¬ 
ple,”  267. 

Coleridge,  his  lack  of  concentration  and 
purpose,  112. 

Collyer,  Robert,  394. 

Colonna,  Yittoria,  265. 

Columbus,  18  ;  his  tact  with  the  In¬ 
dians,  192  ;  his  victory,  315 ;  in  chains, 
315  ;  his  death,  315. 

Commandments,  Ten,  in  nature,  408. 
Common  sense  and  books,  191. 
Compensation,  369. 

Confucius  on  persistence,  350. 
Conscience,  407. 

Cook,  Joseph,  his  great  industry,  65. 
Cooper,  Astley,  16. 

Cooper,  Peter,  375. 

S:|H^®Porti’s  harp,  300. 

Y  |®3nirage,  313. 

•  A-  Bmrte.sy,  among  the  upper  classes,  155, 
■  j^powljer’  William,  his  shyness,  84  ;  244. 
SflBCreon,  the  Greek  slave  artist,  26. 

U  wCrittendon,  C.  N.,  his  missions,  229. 
^  WCrornwell,  Oliver,  84. 

Cunard,  Samuel,  48. 

Curran,  his  self-respect,  208  ;  his  deter- 
mination,  242. 

Curtins,  Marcus,  his  leap  to  death,  3S3. 
l^r  Cushman,  Charlotte,  47  ;  enthusiasm, 
W  172. 


Dalton,  Dr.,  72. 

Dante,  “  the  man  who  had  been  in  hell,” 

283. 

Darling  Grace,  9. 

Darwin,  Charles,  his  persistence,  61,  71, 
384. 

Da  Vinci,  Leonardo,  283. 

Davy,  Sir  Humphry,  35,  70. 

Death  has  adopted  the  American  gait, 
361. 

Decision,  8. 

De  Foe,  Daniel,  81. 

De  Genlis,  Madame,  66. 

Demosthenes,  his  perseverance,  242, 381. 


Depew,  Chauncey,  on  “  grit,  grip,  and 

pluck,”  319. 

De  Quincey,  his  discouragements,  243. 
De  Stael,  Madame,  her  precocity,  97  ; 

her  fascinating  manners,  154, 179. 
Dessaix,  at  Marengo,  322. 

Devil,  the,  “  does  he  lie  ?  ”  281. 
Dickens,  Charles,  on  close  attention, 
111 ;  great  politeness,  150;  his  enthu¬ 
siasm,  171 ;  on  perseverance,  346, 351. 
Dickinson,  Anna,  her  courage,  242. 
Disraeli,  Benjamin,  his  courage,  242. 
Dissipation,  270. 

Dixey,  Henry,  51. 

Douglas,  Stephen  A.,  his  courtesy,  151 
Douglass,  Fred,  50. 

Dress,  importance  of,  167. 

Drew,  David,  his  industry,  88. 

Drew,  Samuel,  his  perseverance,  241. 
Dumas,  Alexander,  45. 

Dunces,  noted,  86,  87. 

Duty,  105. 

Edison,  Thomas  A.,  38;  on  persever. 
ance,  341. 

Edward,  Thomas,  and  his  menagerie,  75. 
Eldon,  Lord,  49  ;  his  industry,  241. 
Eliot,  George,  on  what  to  do,  98  ;  on  as¬ 
piration,  386. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  on  what  to  do, 
103;  on  gentleness,  158,  159;  enthu¬ 
siasm,  173;  on  work,  228;  on  luck, 
330  ;  3S6 ;  perseverance,  354 ;  every 
man  his  own  God,  406. 

Energy,  concentrated,  106. 

Enthusiasm,  triumphs  of,  170. 

Erskine,  Lord,  82 ;  his  flashes  of  hero¬ 
ism,  328. 

Etiquette,  origin  of,  153. 

Euler,  the  mathematician,  58. 

Evarts,  W.  M.,  59. 

Everett,  Edward,  his  charming  manner, 
151. 

Exaggeration,  in  America,  281. 

Failure,  the  only  one  possible,  283 ;  be¬ 
ware  of  the  first,  306 ;  the  test  of  per¬ 
sistence,  308. 

Fairies,  the  twelve,  and  discontent, 

379. 

Fame,  387. 

Faraday,  Michael,  43, 67. 

Farragut,  Admiral,  reserve  power  of, 

394. 

Fate  recedes  before  knowledge,  293 ;  all 
are  architects  of,  303. 

Ferguson,  24. 

Field,  Cyrus  W.,  246;  on  brevity,  373; 

his  perseverance,  347. 

Field,  David  Dudley,  reserve  power  of, 

398. 

Financiering,  slip-shod,  291. 

Fluctuating  men  never  succeed,  340. 
Force,  Peter,  his  poverty,  380. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  on  promptness 
129 ;  his  integrity,  254 ;  on  diligence, 
244,  330 ;  his  perseverance,  18,  69,  92, 


INDEX.  413 


Franklin,  Lady,  her  perseverance,  350. 
Frederick  the  Great,  79. 

Fremont,  J.  C.,  talent  for  effacing  him¬ 
self,  204. 

Frost,  Charles  G.,  his  industry,  68. 
k  ry,  Elizabeth,  and  the  prisons,  15. 
t  uller,  Margaret,  on  the  ideal,  386. 

Galileo  Galilei,  17,  46,  67,  80:  his 
perseverance,  245. 

Garfield,  James  A.,  52,  85 ;  his  reserve 
power,  398. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  39,  60,  138, 

Geradini,  his  persistence,  349. 

Germans,  three  who  mastered  English, 
286. 

Genevieve,  patron  saint  of  Paris,  260. 
Gerster,  her  enthusiasm,  172. 

Gibbon,  Edward,  his  painstaking,  284  ; 

his  perseverance,  342. 

Gilpin,  John,  244. 

Girard,  Stephen,  and  his  drayman,  11 
50,  397  ;  his  sixpence,  246 ;  his  brevitv, 
372 ;  his  precision,  285. 

Girls,  satisfied  with  mediocrity,  101. 
Gladstone,  William  E.,  67;  on  Wash¬ 
ington,  224. 

God  doe3  not  murder  nor  torture  his 
children,  363 ;  surrounds  us  by  kindly 
hints,  363.  J 

Goethe,  70,  97  ;  fascinating  manner,  150 ; 

price  of  success,  243  ;  industry,  330. 
Gold  a  death-blow  to  art,  220. 

Goldsmith  on  cheerfulness,  134. 
Goodyear,  Charles,  his  industry,  245. 
Gough,  John  B.,  20;  at  Oxford,  329 ; 
278. 

Gould,  his  wealth,  211. 

Graham,  George,  the  watchmaker,  273. 
Grant,  U.  S.,  in  business,  320  ;  at  Shiloh 
and  Fort  Donelson,  320  ;  his  courage, 
321 ;  in  the  Wilderness,  321  ;  his  nine 
hours’  sleep,  369  ;  at  Chattanooga,  7  ; 
60 ;  his  promptness,  131 ;  tact,'  188 ; 
politeness,  151. 

Grattan  and  the  red  tape,  288 ;  self- 
respect,  205. 

Greater  than  wealth,  210. 

Greatness,  271. 

Greeley,  Horace,  early  struggles,  30; 
concentration,  113;  his  punctuality, 
130. 

Grit,  the  perfection  of  in  saying  “  No,” 
329. 

Grote,  George,  the  historian,  70. 

Hancock,  John,  his  integrity,  221. 

Handel  and  liis  harpsichord,  81,  246. 
Harland,  Marion,  her  great  industry,  66. 
Harrison,  John,  and  his  chronometer, 
275. 

Harvey,  his  persistence,  342. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  16,  69. 

Heaven,  a  place  for  those  who  fail  on 
earth,  313. 

Henry,  Patrick,  60. 

Henry,  Professor  Joseph,  277. 


Hercules,  his  reserve  power,  391. 
Hermit,  the,  and  the  Colosseum,  305. 
Heroism  in  Memphis  and  Savannah,  215. 
Herschel,  46. 

Hill,  David  B.-,  39. 

Hogarth,  his  power  of  observation,  113. 
Horner,  Francis,  his  character,  402. 
Howe,  Elias,  245. 

Howe,  Julia  Ward,  on  health,  356. 

Hugo,  Victor,  on  method,  288. 
Humboldt,  Alexander  von,  his  industry. 

67  ;  on  Iris  success,  364. 

Humphrey,  President  Amherst  College. 

his  politeness,  163. 

Hunt,  Helen,  on  fretting,  139. 

Hunter,  John,  68  ;  self-confidence,  204. 
Hurry  a  disease. 

Huxley  on  industry  and  endurance,,  333. 

Ideal,  the,  385. 

Ingersoll,  on  greatness,  228. 

Inventions,  useful,  405. 

Irving,  Washington,  self-respect,  204; 

on  fortitude  of  woman,  329. 

Italian  teacher  on  persistence,  343. 

Jacks-at- all-trades,  111. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  his  politeness,  161. 
Jackson,  Richard,  his  integrity,  252. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  his  politeness,  158, 

Jerrold,  Douglas,  his  will  power,  56. 
Jews,  their  politeness,  159;  their  tact, 
201. 

Joan  of  Arc,  174,  315. 

Johnson,  Andrew,  51;  “from  a  tailor 
up,”  282. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  71  ;  his  gruffness,  157. 
Josephine,  her  fascinating  manner.  153. 
160.  ’  ’ 
Ju.dson,  Dr.  A.,  his  perseverance,  343. 
Junot  and  Napoleon,  328. 

Juvenal  on  a  lucky  man,  335. 

Kean,  his  precocity,  97  ;  his  persistence, 
337,  342. 

Kepler,  his  self-confidence,  45. 

King  Cleomenes  and  his  daughter 
Gorgo,  251. 

Kingsley,  Charles,  on  concentration,  111. 
Kitto,  Dr.,  26  ;  his  perseverance,  241. 
Kossuth,  his  character,  264. 

Labor,  the  curse  of,  236  ;  the  school 
master  of  the  race,  238. 

Lafayette  on  Washington,  225. 

Lamb,  Charles,  on  grumbling,  143. 
“Lancet,”  London,  on  pluck  of  the 
sick,  332. 

Lanrnan,  Charles,  190. 

La  Salle  on  the  Mississippi,  327. 

Latimer,  Ridley,  and  Cranmer,  307. 
Laughter,  its  power,  137. 

Lawrence,  Amos,  his  promptness,  130; 

and  “  the  odd  cent,”  270. 

Lawyers  who  can’t  get  a  living,  248. 
Learning,  real  road  to.  241. 

Lee,  Gideon,  51. 


414 


INDEX 


Leonidas,  252 ;  victorj7  in  hia  defeat,  316. 

Lessing,  his  absent-mindedness,  191. 

Lewis,  Edmonia,  50. 

Lewis,  Ida,  9. 

Liberty,  love  of,  176. 

Life  is  what  we  make  it,  292 ;  along  one, 
and  how  to  reach  it,  356 ;  exhausted 
by  Americans,  301  ;  a  struggle,  366. 

Lighthouse  on  Lincoln  Heath,  293. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  52,  72,  225 ;  his  hu¬ 
mor,  138  ;  character  of,  263,  265 ;  his 
politeness,  160,  203  ;  desire  for  learn¬ 
ing,  241 ;  on  Grant,  319. 

Lind,  Jenny,  279. 

Longfellow,  Henry  W.,  16 ;  on  perse¬ 
verance,  355. 

Louis  XIV.,  his  self-conceit,  204. 

Love,  power  of,  381. 

Lowell,  James  R.,  his  politeness,  98; 
161. 

Loyola,  Ignatius,  396. 

Lubbock,  Sir  John,  69. 

Luck,  none  for  him  who  is  not  striving, 
331,  334. 

Lundy,  Benjamin,  25,  39. 

Luther,  Martin,  283. 

Lytton,  K.  Bulwer,  on  industry,  112, 316, 
354  ;  perseverance,  342. 

Macaulay,  his  accuracy,  286. 

McCormick  and  his  reaper,  245. 

McDonald,  bravery,  at  Wagram,  327. 

McDougal,  Bessie,  her  courage,  323. 

Maintenon,  Madame,  her  wonderful 
manner,  149. 

Malibran,  her  enthusiasm,  172 ;  her 
persistence,  350 ;  intense  life  of,  367. 

Manhood,  nature  is  after,  237,  251. 

Mann,  Horace,  on  health,  358. 

Manners,  a  fortune  in,  146 ;  in  high 
places,  152  ;  recipe  for,  169. 

Manning,  Daniel,  38. 

Marlborough,  Duke  of,  his  politeness, 
148. 

Marshall,  John,  his  infallibility,  118. 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  her  politeness, 
158. 

Massena,  6 ;  at  Genoa,  322 ;  and  Napo¬ 
leon,  322 ;  reserve  power,  396. 

Masters  of  the  situation,  57. 

Matsys,  Quentin,  59. 

Maydole  and  his  hammer,  275. 

Melancholy  of  our  ancestors,  141 . 

Mendelssohn,  his  persistency,  339. 

Method,  288. 

Midas,  King,  his  golden  wish,  219. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  66 ;  on  circumstances, 
301. 

Mill,  the  magical,  for  restoring  youth, 

295. 

Miller,  Hugh,  66,  80,  241  ;  his  pluck, 
343  ;  300  ;  character,  264. 

Milton,  John,  66,  69. 

Miner,  Rena  L  on  occupation  for  girls, 

101. 

Mirabeau,  his  wonderful  manners,  154  ; 
his  reserve  power,  390. 

Mirth,  God’s  medicine,  140. 


Moliere  on  physicians,  369. 

Moltke,  Von,  reserve  power  of,  396. 

Montaigne,  his  character,  255. 

Montesquieu,  his  accuracy,  284;  hil 
pluck,  353. 

Moods,  our,  nature  reflects,  297. 

Moore,  his  perseverance,  244. 

Morrison,  Dr. ,  his  courage,  343. 

Morse,  Professor  S.  F.  B.,  his  struggles 
with  the  telegraph,  245. 

Morton,  Governor  Marcus,  ilia  persist 
eucy,  246. 

Mottoes  of  great  men,  233,  234. 

Mowry,  William  A.,  on  concentration. 

110. 

Mozart,  314. 

Napoleon  I.  crossing  the  Alps,  6 ;  will 
power,  55,  60,  97 ;  the  nick  of  time, 
123  ;  on  promptness,  129  ;  enthusiasm, 
173 ;  perseverance,  244  ;  his  courage, 
250 ;  liis  power  over  the  army,  254 ; 
his  accuracy,  283,  285;  and  his  gen- 
ei’als,  318. 

Nature  a  great  economist,  361. 

Nature’s  motto,  “  work  or  starve,”  235. 

Nelson,  Lord,  5;  on  promptness,  129; 
enthusiasm,  174. 

Nerve  —  Grit,  Grip,  Pluck,  318. 

Nerves,  our,  are  sentinels,  363. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  79 ;  persistence, 
244,  342,  343,  284. 

Nightingale,  Florence,  her  character, 
265. 

Nilsson,  Christine,  37. 

Nobility,  true,  215. 

Observation,  281 ;  a  keen,  299. 

Obstacles,  58 ;  necessary  to  success,  240, 
241  ;  make  men,  311. 

Occupation  a  doubtful  one,  97 ;  don’t 
choose  for  money,  235 ;  honorable, 
237. 

On  time,  or  the  triumphs  of  promptness, 

121. 

Opportunity,  the  Man  and  the,  5,  7,  8, 
11, 12,  13  ;  making  it,  23;  preparation 
for,  212. 

Owen,  Robert,  12. 

Palaces  or  hovels,  300. 

Palisy,  his  pluck  and  grit,  245,  338. 

Paradise  Lost,  243. 

Pare,  Ambrose,  380. 

Parker,  Theodore,  on  Socrates’  charac« 
ter,  36,  255. 

Parkman,  Francis,  his  struggles,  182. 

Pascal,  80. 

Passions  are  contagious,  271. 

Peabody,  George,  his  generosity,  222. 

Pellisier,  the  Crimean  chief,  321. 

Perfection  of  body,  369. 

Perry,  Commodore,  8. 

Perseverance,  triumphs  of,  340. 

Persistence,  its  reward,  337. 

Peter  the  Great  an  early  riser,  127. 

Petrarch,  Character  of,  264. 

Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  108. 


INDEX , 


415 


Philip  and  the  Lacedaemonians,  319. 

Philippe,  Louis,  191. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  41 ;  his  inimitable 
manner,  150 ;  tact,  193 ;  courage,  242  ; 
liis  love  of  perfection,  290. 

Pierre  and  Malibran,  211. 

Pilgrim’s  Progress,  243. 

Pitt,  William,  61 ;  his  power  of  concen¬ 
tration,  115  ;  his  self-confidence,  204  ; 
his  grit,  328. 

Plague,  the,  follows  famine,  366. 

Poe,  Edgar  A.,  his  poverty,  243,  314. 

Possibilities  in  spare  moments,  63. 

poverty,  246. 

Principle,  223. 

Punctuality  the  soul  of  business,  130 ; 
gives  confidence  and  credit,  131. 

Pui-pose,  an  invincible,  58,  104. 

Putnam,  General,  his  promptness,  122. 

Quality  greater  than  leadership  or  gen¬ 
eralship,  267. 

Quincy,  President,  his  courtesy,  162. 

Rahl,  Colonel,  his  fatal  delay,  122. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  could  toil  terribly, 
117,  125. 

Raphael,  70  ;  his  masterpiece,  314. 

Recamier,  Madame,  her  fascinating  man¬ 
ner,  149. 

Reserve,  army  of  the,  389. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  80 ;  on  persist¬ 
ency,  339. 

Richardson,  Dr.,  on  longevity,  368. 

Robert,  Duke  of  Normandy,  and  the  poi¬ 
soned  arrow,  214. 

Rockefeller,  John  D.,  15. 

Rome,  her  motto,  236. 

Rothschild,  Nathan  M.,  on  concentra¬ 
tion,  106;  his  poverty,  226;  and  the 
Bank  of  England,  325. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  33;  on  man¬ 
hood,  94. 

Ruskin,  John,  his  clay,  sand,  soot,  and 
water,  303 ;  on  persistence,  343,  382. 

Sage,  Russell,  103. 

St.  Bernard,  his  personal  power,  254. 

Savonarola,  his  industry,  242 ;  his  inflex¬ 
ibility,  312. 

“  Scatteration,”  109. 

Schiller,  his  trials,  81. 

Scotch  boy,  Sandie,  and  his  matches,  213. 

Scott,  John  (Lord  Eldon),  energy  of,  241. 

Scott,  Walter,  his  will  power,  56;  his 
punctuality,  127  ;  his  kindness,  140. 

Self-confidence  and  self-respect,  202 ; 
give  power,  208. 

Seneca,  his  will  power,  56. 

Shakespeare,  William,  17  ;  tact,  199 ;  243. 

Sharpies,  James,  his  struggles,  45. 

Shelley,  Kate,  the  bravery  of,  323. 

Sheridan,  General,  at  Winchester,  8 ;  his 
courage,  257,  286. 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  his  pluck,  242 ;  might 
have  ruled  the  world,  263 ;  first  speech, 
338. 

Sherman,  General,  8. 


Siddons,  Mrs.  Scott,  279. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  and  the  cup  of  water, 
261. 

Silence,  statue  of,  399. 

Smeaton,  John,  82. 

Smiles,  Samuel,  85. 

Smith,  Sydney,  on  concentration,  111. 
123 ;  on  labor,  349. 

Solomon  and  his  elixir  of  life,  379. 

Sothern,  his  courage,  343. 

Spartan,  the,  boy  and  the  fox,  328. 

Spectacles,  the  glorious,  298. 

Spencer,  P.  R.,  Spencerian  system,  33. 

Spurgeon,  no  time  to  make  mone’ 

220. 

Steam,  the  power  of,  in  Great  Britain, 
401. 

Stephenson,  George,  24,  46,  70,  86  ;  his 
persistency,  244,  342;  Gladstone  on, 
368  ;  Horace  Greeley  on,  369. 

Stewart,  A.  T.,  82,  99 ;  his  honesty,  222 ; 
method,  288 ;  on  lucky  people,  335. 

Story,  the  sculptor,  and  his  statue  of 
George  Peabody,  400. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  66. 

Success,  the  child  of  drudgery,  246 ; 
price  of,  232,  247  ;  secret  of,  314 ;  con¬ 
stant,  315  ;  early,  dangerous,  313. 

Sugden,  Edward,  his  thoroughness,  114. 

Sultan,  the,  and  his  stuffed  ball,  365. 

Sumner,  no  time  to  make  money,  220. 

Tact,  a  national  trait,  201  ;  or  common 
sense,  187. 

Talent,  not  shut  out  by  barriers,  330. 

Taylor,  General,  at  Buena  Vista,  318. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  on  dunces,  86. 

Thiers,  President,  reserve  power  of,  392 ; 
his  reprobate  youth,  404. 

Thoreau,  his  pluck,  353  ;  and  the  flower 
in  the  road,  294 ;  and  liis  quarrel  with 
God,  265. 

Thorwaldsen,  26. 

Time,  killing  of,  73. 

Titian,  his  perseverance,  342. 

To-morrow,  the  fool’s  motto,  121. 

“Touchiness,”  the  new  disease,  142. 

Tucker,  Adam,  his  industry,  353. 

Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  on  hard  work,  339; 
his  magnanimity,  269,  289. 

Unlucky  people  usually  shiftless,  335. 

Vanderbilt,  Cornelius,  13, 48;  sticking 
to  business,  235. 

Varro,  Terentius,  and  Rome,  321. 

Vergil  and  his  persistence,  353. 

Victoria,  Queen,  and  Prince  Albert,  147  ; 
her  politeness,  152 ;  her  character,  264. 

Victory,  the,  in  defeat,  304. 

Virtue,  the  resources  of,  409. 

Voltaire,  on  great  men,  221  ;  on  great 
ness,  227. 

Wales,  Prince  of,  his  politeness,  152. 

Wallace,  Carlyle  on,  316. 

Walton,  Isaac,  140,  298. 

Wanamakei ,  John,  50 ;  his  motto,  104. 


416 


INDEX, 


Ward,  Artemus,  89,  200. 

Ward,  J.  Q.  A.,  sculptor,  278. 

Washington,  George,  always  prompt, 
129  ;  his  politeness,  1G1 ;  his  charac¬ 
ter,  224 ;  and  the  corporal,  236 ;  his 
character,  244,  254,  255,  263 ;  maligned 
at  Valley  Forge,  396. 

Watt,  James,  71 ;  his  persistence,  244, 
342. 

Wayland,  Francis,  on  work,  339 ;  mis¬ 
sionary  sermon,  286,  391. 

Wealth,  real,  222 ;  greater  than,  226, 210. 

Webster,  Daniel,  190;  his  pluck,  242, 
328,  352  ;  reply  to  Hayne,  392,  402  ;  a 
“  steam  engine  in  trousers,”  115  ; 
promptness,  130 ;  politeness,  162  ;  self- 
respect,  207 ;  on  Washington,  224 ;  a 
great  worker,  234  ;  character  and  the 
presidency,  263. 

Webster,  Noah,  his  perseverance,  342. 

Weed,  Thurlow,  35,  38  ;  great  tact,  195 ; 
perseverance,  241  ;  brevity,  373. 

Wellington,  Duke  of,  8,  69,  220  ;  Sydney 
Smith  on,  319 ;  at  Waterloo,  328 ;  and 
his  physician,  279. 

Wesley,  John,  88. 

West,  Benjamin,  81. 

What  career,  89. 

Whipple  on  business  nerve,  332. 

Whitefield,  George,  his  energy,  242. 

White,  Henry  Kirke,  71. 

Whiting,  J.  C.,  his  accuracy,  277. 


Whitman,  Ezekiel,  167. 

Whitney,  Eli,  his  struggles  witn  the  cot¬ 
ton-gin,  309. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  39,  100. 

Wilberforce,  advice  of,  241. 

Willard,  Frances,  on  “  woman  the  great¬ 
est  discovery  of  the  century,”  101 ; 
her  aspiration,  381. 

William  the  Silent,  his  charactei  and 
struggles,  308. 

Will  power,  58. 

Wilson,  Professor  George,  his  will 
power,  56. 

Wilson,  Henry,  29;  his  perseverance. 
241. 

Winans,  Ross,  his  courtesy,  163. 
Winthrop,  Robert  C.,  on  Washington, 
224. 

Wirt,  William,  on  hesitating,  339. 

Wolfe,  General,  56 ;  his  self-confidence, 
203. 

Woman,  her  influence,  271. 

Woman’s  sphere,  100,  101,  102,  103. 
Wordsworth,  139. 

Work,  mix  brains  with,  239;  healthy. 

366. 

Wren,  Christopher,  enthusiasm  of,  174. 

Youth,  enthusiasm  of,  183. 

Zane,  Elizabeth,  at  Fort  Henry. 
327. 


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